


The Scars We Get Together

by strangestquiet



Series: No Beginning, No End [3]
Category: Persona 4
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:29:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 77,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangestquiet/pseuds/strangestquiet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Souji and Yosuke's relationship becomes severely strained after Yosuke loses Susano-O, and Souji works toward the end of a journey that was never completed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 3 in a series, preceded by [No Beginning, No End](http://archiveofourown.org/works/47111) and [Fight For Us Both](http://archiveofourown.org/works/47162). While I think the other two can mostly stand on their own separately, this one relies a bit more heavily on some plot stuff from NBNE.

_???, 2022_

  


 _It’s been a long time since he’s been here, he thinks._

 _Either that, or it’s still 2011 – he’s still seventeen, still in high school, still chasing after a murderer and plumbing the depths of the sea of his soul for pieces of himself he hadn’t known had existed until then. But that possibility seems unlikely. As unfocused as his mind is right now, he can catch snippets of memories, stray thoughts and impressions that speak of real experiences he’s had since those days – terror, happiness, pain, comfort, friends, lovers, family. And when he looks across the dark interior of the limousine and sees the small man and the beautiful woman sitting opposite him, his first impression is that it’s been a long time since they’ve last met._

 _“Welcome back,” says Igor – and he’s smiling, he’s_ always _smiling, but sometimes it looks like a menacing grimace instead of a true smile, and now is one of those times. “We’d begun to worry.”_

 _Souji tries to speak, and can’t. The words come molasses-slow in his mouth, and he can’t get them out before Igor’s speaking over him._

 _“My apologies for summoning you on such short notice. I had hoped you would eventually find your way back here, but it seems we were waiting in vain. And time grows short, as always.”_

 _Souji looks to the woman in blue. Margaret regards him coolly with piercing yellow eyes that he’s learned to both fear and respect, both in her and in other beings with those same features. She’s kinder than his Shadow ever was, though. Like that omniscient creature, when she looks at him, he feels like she sees absolutely everything – but also, strangely, and perhaps foolishly, like those secrets and faults are safe with her._

 _“Remember that we are your guides,” she says serenely. “We cannot tell you what to do with your power. We can aid you, prompt you, remind you of your purpose, but in the end, the choice must be yours.”_

 _“I don’t remember making a choice,” says Souji, when at last he catches hold of the thick, slippery words._

 _“Ahh, but you did,” says Igor. “And what a choice it was! To look away, to let go, to trust that you had gone as far as possible, and done as much as you could. A choice to do nothing is a choice all the same.”_

 _“Then why am I here, if I’ve already made the choice?”_

 _“Because you are a Fool,” says Igor, and Souji bristles indignantly for a moment before he remembers that what his ears hear and what his host intends to say are not the same thing. “Do you understand what that means?”_

 _He nods, though he isn’t sure he needs to. Being inside the Velvet Room feels so much like a dream, and  
sometimes he isn’t sure he’s really been there until he leaves and his heart feels _heavier _somehow, crowded with the presence of yet another newly-surfaced self. Regardless of whether this meeting is really happening, Souji decides to answer – just in case. “Infinity,” he says quietly. “Potential.”_

 _“Correct,” says Igor, and the line of his mouth curves into a wicked smile under the long arc of his nose. “But also emptiness.”_

 _“I’m – I’m not empty.”_

 _Igor’s laughter is a thin, papery, ghastly thing. Souji is polite enough not to flinch. “Certainly not! At least, not entirely, judging by the splendid things you have shown us in this very Room. But every Fool must embark on a journey – and you’ve returned to us because yours was never complete.”_

 _There’s a pang in Souji’s chest at this reminder, the closest thing to physical sensation he’s experienced during this encounter yet. It’s a pain very close to his heart, and one which he does not go a day without feeling. “There were… some people I couldn’t –“_

 _“You did your best,” says Margaret, and Souji is soothed somewhat by the sad and sympathetic tone of her voice. “Not all paths of the journey are happy ones. Sometimes one must fail, in order to want to keep going – in order to draw one’s strength from those failures.”_

 _Souji digs his fingers into the plush seat beneath him, feels it give, weaken, and ripple. All around him, the entire room begins to shift in much the same fashion._

 _“You were given a great gift,” says Igor, from somewhere that now seems to be very far away. “Use it to find your way forward, while you still can.”_

 _When Souji murmurs in his sleep, Yosuke turns over, curls around him, and holds him until he’s quiet again. Ultimately, the disturbance passes without him waking – and he’s already forgotten his long overdue meeting in the Velvet Room._

  


 _March 26, 2022_

The sounds of footsteps and clinking glass in the kitchen pierced the cobweb veil of his dreams and dragged him out of sleep, and he might have slipped right back under if the sounds weren’t accompanied by the smell of someone cooking breakfast. In Souji’s opinion, few things were worth getting out of bed early on a Sunday for, but breakfast made by someone else certainly ranked somewhere near the top of that hypothetical list.

He never seemed to wake naturally anymore – always by some external stimulus. Nanako shutting the door on her way to school, Yosuke opening the closet to look for a clean shirt, the phone, the alarm clock, the television, the fire alarm, birds in the tree by their window, the barking of the neighbourhood dogs, the cars on the street below. Breakfast. Sometimes daylight; he loved that specific time of year when getting up for work meant he was rising with the sun, when he’d open his eyes and see the soft glow of cold early morning light streaming in from between the crack in the curtains. A little hopefully, he tilted his head back on his pillow so he could look outside, upside-down, out the window above him – but he was met with disappointment. Grey clouds, grey skies, grey rain. Grey fog.

Souji couldn’t remember the last time he’d been woken by the sun.

He rolled over. The other half of the bed was vacant, Yosuke’s watch and glasses missing from the bedside table. The sheets on his side were cold; he must have been up for a while. Maybe if he stayed there long enough Yosuke would come back to wake him, and then he could pull him back down into bed and they could waste the entire dreary day under the blankets together, like they used to. But that simply wasn’t possible.

They needed to be somewhere today.

Souji got up, got dressed, got moving. In the hall, he stole a glance through the open door of Nanako’s bedroom as he passed, partially packed up in boxes and growing emptier by the day, a sight that never failed to cast a shadow on his mornings. He found her preparing food in the kitchen (he should have known it wasn’t Yosuke; nothing smelled burnt), and she glanced over her shoulder when she heard him approach and greeted him with a subdued, “Morning, big bro.”

“Good morning, Nanako-chan. Sleep well?”

She shrugged and tilted her head a little from side to side, evaluating. “Okay. Woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep, though. So I made breakfast.”

“Yeah, it smells great.” He went to the cupboard and retrieved some plates for themselves as she finished preparing what looked to be small portions of fish. Casually, even though he already knew what the answer would be, he asked, “Where’s Yosuke?”

“Gone already,” answered Nanako, and a troubled little furrow appeared on her forehead as she said it. “I asked him to wait for us, but he wouldn’t. He does this every year...”

“Then why are you always surprised?”

“Because it’s not fair to either of you. You said that girl _hated_ him, and he still goes to see her? _Today_ of all days?”

“Would you want to make more than one trip if you didn’t have to?”

“Still…”

Souji sighed. Nanako had grown up into a strong young woman in their time together, but she was every inch her father’s daughter: intelligent and protective, but impatient with things and people she didn’t understand. She was pragmatic, just like her father, somewhat like Souji, but so unlike Yosuke that sometimes when they quarrelled they might as well have been speaking entirely different languages. “Nanako-chan,” he explained gently, “things haven’t been easy for him lately. He needs this.”

“Well,” she began, but her angry huff petered out into a sad little, “I need _him_. I need both of you there with me.”

Souji patted her shoulder reassuringly. “He’ll meet up with us. You know he will.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I know.”

They ate in silence, cleaned up after themselves, and then it was time to face the day. Souji grabbed an umbrella as they headed out the door. It didn’t seem as though it would stop raining anytime soon.

  


“These are for you, Dad.”

In the back corner of Inaba’s largest graveyard, Souji watched as Nanako crouched low enough to the ground to lay her small bouquet of white flowers carefully at the base of the stone marker they’d come to visit. He didn’t know how many times they’d made this trip together, how many times he’d seen her perform exactly these motions, nor had he ever tried to count. More often than is usual, his parents said; not nearly often enough for him.

Ryotaro Dojima had been his father too, once upon a time. However briefly.

Nanako had another small clutch of flowers grasped tightly in her hands, little yellow ones that Souji had seen growing alongside the Samegawa. She laid these next to the white ones, at the right hand side of the marker just below her mother’s name, and said some words that were too quiet for Souji to overhear – for which he was grateful. This part always felt too private, too personal. Her father’s death six years earlier had been a shared pain, something that had influenced both their lives profoundly, but Souji had never managed to overcome the barrier that prevented him from grieving his aunt Chisato like was allowed of her husband and her daughter. That pain wasn’t for him, and never would be, and through some nearly divine gift of tact, Souji was fully aware of that.

Nanako stood then, flowers at her feet, and stepped backward until she was under the protective barrier of Souji’s large umbrella. He dislodged his free hand from his coat pocket and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her in close to his side. She used to like it when he did that, during their previous visits, when she was younger and more apt to need his strength as a sibling and as a parent; but although she leaned against him now without complaint, he felt a resistance in her frame that hadn’t been there before.

He told himself not to worry. She’d said not an hour ago that she still needed him and Yosuke, and he was going to cling to that reassurance. It was strange, really. He’d once been terrified of the prospect of someone depending on him so completely, and now, out of everything he’d worried about her, about school and growing up and dating and leaving home, the thing he wasn’t ready for was for her not to need him anymore.

“I never blamed Mom for not being here like I blamed Dad,” she said softly. Souji stared straight ahead at the marker, at the way the rain funnelled down the imperfections in the stone in tiny rivers, and said nothing. Nanako almost never spoke of her mother; he didn’t want to screw up whatever had prompted her to do so now. “Dad didn’t mean to die any more than she did. But I never blamed her like I blamed him. Why?”

“You were younger, then,” said Souji. “You didn’t know.”

“Know what?”

He shrugged. “That parents aren’t perfect. That sometimes they screw up. You were old enough to know that with your dad, so it’s easier to place blame on him.”

Nanako’s shoulders fell slightly, beneath his arm. “That’d be stupid of me,” she said.

“Well,” said Souji, knowingly, “kids aren’t perfect, either.”

They were both silent for a moment, lost in thought as they listened to the rain pelt the soft, muddy pathway and the solid, unyielding gravestones and the nylon top of the umbrella. When at last Nanako made her request, Souji wished he could have said it came as a surprise to him – but in truth, he’d been waiting for her to make it for the better part of the last six years. In truth, he wondered why it hadn’t come sooner.

“I want to meet my Persona,” Nanako said calmly. “Before I leave for school.”

“…Are you sure?”

She nodded firmly. “Yeah.”

“There’s no rush, you know,” said Souji. “You’re just going to Iwatodai. It’s not like you’ll never be back.”

“Big bro… I need to put this behind me before I go. I don’t want to take that Shadow with me.”

“Your Shadow’s always with you, Nanako-chan,” he reminded her; it was a hard-earned lesson, and one he needed to be sure he passed on. “It’s a part of you. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“I _know_ , but…”

“You should listen to your brother, kiddo.”

Souji glanced sidelong down the path between the gravestones to see Yosuke walking toward them, face pale, shoulders hunched against the cold rain, and flowers still tightly clutched in his hand. He looked small like that somehow, almost ill; the word _diminished_ came to Souji’s mind before he hastily dismissed it, angry with himself for even thinking such a thing – as if Yosuke was something lesser now, instead of as whole as he’d always been.

“Besides,” Yosuke continued, stepping out of the rain and under the umbrella with them, “some people just don’t have Personas they can call out at all. Sometimes you just have to accept that living with your Shadow is the best you can do.”

“Yosuke,” Souji warned quietly. Yosuke looked up challengingly, as though he was ready to argue being shut down so brazenly, but he ultimately backed down with a careless shrug.

“I know I might not have one – not like you do, big bro. But my Shadow… she said some awful things. Things that are true, I _know_ that, and I’ve worked really hard to accept them. I just need to know that I really _did_. I need some kind of proof.”

Souji nodded. “Then I’ll help you find it,” he promised. “We’ll do it together.”

“How?” Yosuke asked. “By taking her to the other side? ’Cause if that’s where you’re going, there’s no way you’re leaving me behind.”

Souji glanced at him, above Nanako’s head, and found Yosuke staring him down with an intensity in his face that had largely been absent for a long time now: daring him to say _no_. It was a challenge Souji was reluctant to take up, especially at that particular time and place, but he had long ago sworn to himself that he would do everything in his power to protect both Nanako and Yosuke, and he accepted that keeping that promise sometimes wouldn’t be easy – or at all appreciated. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Yosuke,” he said. In the crook of his arm, he felt Nanako cringe in anticipation of what they all knew was about to happen.

As expected, the burning focus that had come into Yosuke’s eyes dissipated in a moment of stunned disbelief, only to be replaced by a wounded and furious glare. “Yeah,” he scoffed, “why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“I’m sorry, but… we almost lost you last year. I’m not willing to risk your safety if I don’t have to.”

“Souji, come _on_. I could – I could trip down the stairs or get hit by a car or drown in the river, and _that’s_ what you’re worried about?”

“Those are entirely different—”

“No, they’re not, and I’m _not_ letting you two go in there alone,” Yosuke swore. “You’re not going to leave me out of this.”

“If something goes wrong --“

“Then you’re gonna need me, dammit!”

“Guys!” Nanako interrupted. “Not here, okay? Please?”

The two of them looked to her, and then back to each other, irritated expressions now tinged with a mutual guilt that defused the imminent explosion, and an understanding passed between them: they could and probably would have another fight about this, but not in front of Nanako, and not in front of her parents.

“Sorry, Nanako-chan,” Yosuke apologized quietly, and then he was tame and downcast once more, anger receding as startlingly fast as it had come over him. “I just want to be there to help you through this… that’s all.”

“Let him come with us, big bro,” said Nanako. “You won’t have to fight; I won’t let it get out of control. I promise I’m ready to face it.”

“…I’ll think about it.”

“ _Now_ you sound like a dad,” she told him, which earned her a playful tap on the head.

Yosuke deposited his flowers on the Dojima family grave, and then they departed the graveyard together through the fog, talking and making plans for when they should attempt the trip into the other world. When Nanako received a call on her phone from Teddie, who always made it a point to try and cheer her up on this particular day, she walked on ahead to talk privately and left Souji and Yosuke to follow at a distance.

“How was Saki?” Souji asked.

Yosuke shrugged. “Brought her some flowers – the ones from Junes that she used to like.” He laughed, hollowly. “Maybe she was lying about that, too, though.”

“But you didn’t leave them for her?”

“Someone else was there.”

“Who?”

He shook his head. “Don’t know who it was. You remember though? That guy she was planning on running away with? I heard he actually still comes here sometimes to see her. It might have been him. And I thought – god, what the fuck am I doing? I turned her into this _martyr_ , y’know, a reason to do what I’d been doing back then – like she even gave a shit that what I did was for her. I never even thought about the guy she _actually_ cared about for a goddamned second. Anyway, no way I could show my face with someone else there, so I left.”

Souji reached over and touched his arm, let his free hand slide down his wrist and then to his palm until he could twist their fingers together. It was safe to do so, on such a miserably rainy day that was sure to keep curious onlookers at home, and under those circumstances, Yosuke appreciated comforting physical contact quite a great deal. “Look, I’m sorry about before,” said Souji. “I know it must seem like I’m smothering you, but…”

“It kinda does, yeah. I’m not made of glass, man, okay? Just because I can’t dish it as well anymore doesn’t mean I can’t take a hit.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Yeah,” said Yosuke. “You either, y’know? I’d be out of my mind just sitting around at home waiting for you to get back. Dude, we’ve done this together this whole time, gone the whole way together. Don’t make me sit it out now just because I hit a rut.”

“…Okay,” said Souji. “But I mean it – it’ll be just like the old days, all right? If there’s trouble and I say ‘get out’, then you listen to me and we get out. Got it?”

Yosuke gave his hand a grateful little squeeze. “Got it, partner,” he agreed with a tired but warm smile – a shadow of what it used to be, but disarming as always – and Souji thought for a moment as he returned it that maybe all their arguing as of late was for nothing. Maybe Yosuke would be all right after all.

Still, he watched him carefully as the three of them headed for home, mindful of the dark corners under his eyes and the pallor of his skin, features he had grown somewhat used to over the last several months, but which seemed to be worsening all the same. And he wondered if he was genuinely _sure_ Yosuke would be all right, or if he was just internalizing all those excuses he’d been fed for so long now: _Just stressed out, partner, nothing to worry about – I’m not hungry, that’s all – the rain gets me down, you know that – sorry, I didn’t mean to—_

But excuses were all they were, and although Yosuke’s stubborn insistence that he was _fine_ made him angry at times, at the core of it, Souji was simply _afraid_ for him. Or wanted to be, despite Yosuke’s best efforts at interference. Souji didn’t doubt for a second that Yosuke truly wanted to stand by Nanako’s side as she accepted herself, and to be there to protect her if things went sour – but he also suspected Yosuke had ulterior motives behind going into the other world. If Nanako’s plan was to ensure her Shadow was entirely accepted in order to acquire her Persona, it would be foolish of him not to expect Yosuke’s plan to be the same. He’d tried to kill his Shadow, once, when he couldn’t accept what it had to say, and although the Shadow had eventually returned to him, the proof of Yosuke’s acceptance of it had not.

He had been without Susano-O for an entire year now, and Souji feared that the extent of the toll that absence would take on him had yet to be seen.

They went home again, back to their tiny apartment above the barber shop in the shopping district, where Nanako continued packing and Yosuke went back to bed. Souji didn’t join him, in spite of what he’d wanted earlier that morning. He sat at the kitchen table with coffee and yesterday’s newspaper, and skimmed it while he listened to the sounds and the silence of his comfortable life unravelling around him, and wondered how the hell it had happened.


	2. Chapter 2

_April 3, 2022_

  
It was another full week before the opportunity to travel to the other world made itself available. Working around Yosuke’s schedule was essential – it had to be done at a time when his presence at Junes wouldn’t raise any eyebrows, but nor would he be missed when he disappeared for a while. Nanako had graduated from Yasogami a few weeks previously, but the new term would begin the following week and Souji was busy preparing for the imminent influx of students. Heading into a potentially dangerous situation already tired from working a full day seemed risky to him. So it wasn’t until the next Sunday after Yosuke’s shift that the three of them were able to make it to the Junes electronics department, prepared for battle, but hoping they wouldn’t need to be.

The days since Nanako’s decision had been surprisingly peaceful ones. Given a goal, something concrete to focus on, Yosuke’s sullen disposition had improved significantly, and Souji was enjoying the reprieve far too much to mention that Chie and Kanji were on standby if things didn’t turn out in their favour. He didn’t even want to imagine the potential fallout if Yosuke discovered he’d taken such precautions behind his back, and he felt guilty as all hell for not being honest with him, but better to be safe than sorry. Apart from that, the sun had come out again, dispersing the rain and the thick fog that tended to plague Inaba’s springs, and the longer days and climbing temperatures had helped to lift everyone’s spirits, Yosuke’s included.

“All right,” said Yosuke, as he turned the corner into the back aisle, where Souji and Nanako were closely considering the flat-screen TVs that Souji, to all outward appearances, had wanted to buy for the last several years. “Coast’s clear, so let’s get going.”

Souji went in first, the only one of them who could breach the boundary between the worlds now, and he pulled Yosuke and Nanako along behind him. They emerged on the other side, a little dizzy, but safely and no worse for wear, and paused to get their bearings as Souji and Yosuke donned their glasses.

“I wonder where Teddie is?” Nanako mused. She made her way to the railings that fenced in the backlot area and leaned over them, trying in vain to see through the clouds of thick fog that rose up around their platform. It was an unspoken understanding that Teddie was absolutely forbidden to give Nanako her own pair of glasses, knowing as they did her propensity to strike out on her own when she got an idea fixed in her head. But it hardly would have mattered if she’d had a pair now – even with the help of his glasses, Souji couldn’t see much further than she could without them.

“Hope he hasn’t wandered too far,” said Souji. “Honestly, it’s dangerous for him to stay in here at all.”

“Not like he had a choice,” said Yosuke. “It was just a matter of time before my parents started noticing he wasn’t getting any older.”

“Like in _Witch Detective_ ,” said Souji wisely, which drew a giggle from Nanako and the most satisfying _I don’t even know you_ face from Yosuke. “Anyway, I guess Teddie survived in here long before we ever found him. I suppose he’ll be all right on his own.”

“Yeah. ‘Sides, where else is he going to go?”

Nanako brightened. “He could move into my room!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, no,” Yosuke groaned. “Did we forget I already shared a house with him once? You guys don’t even _know_. I’ve paid my debt, thanks.”

“You know, it probably wouldn’t be that bad. He’d be next door bothering Kanji most of the time anyway,” Souji reasoned.

“You, stop thinking,” he ordered Souji, before turning to Nanako. “And you, stop giving him ideas.” Nanako stuck out her tongue at him and went back to peering through the fog.

They resolved to wait near the entrance, figuring it safest to have a quick escape route handy – although they all knew from Yosuke’s experience the previous year that if one of their Shadows appeared, simply fleeing through the portal to their own world would bring them closer to harm than to safety. For the smaller, less human shadows, however, the ones more easily overcome but still potentially deadly, running away was a perfectly legitimate solution to an unwinnable fight.

Fifteen minutes passed, then another fifteen, then another. It occurred to Souji that he didn’t really _know_ what triggered a Shadow’s appearance, beyond an extended stay on this side of the television. His own had appeared under duress, but Yosuke’s seemed content to show up to torment him simply at its own whim. Maybe Nanako’s would take its time. Maybe it wasn’t coming at all.

“Do you think I did it wrong?” asked Nanako as they approached the end of the first hour. “I didn’t accept it when it first appeared. Maybe I missed my chance…”

“Hard to say,” said Souji. “It’s not like we have a handbook for this kind of thing.”

“Maybe I don’t have a Persona after all…”

“It’s possible.”

“That’s kind of messed,” said Yosuke. “I thought for sure Nanako-chan would get one someday. How come some people don’t have them at all, and you have like, a hundred?”

Souji frowned, but otherwise ignored the mild streak of bitterness in Yosuke’s words.

“Ken-kun said he knew somebody else who had a lot of Personas,” said Nanako. “Have you talked to him about it?”

“Yes,” said Souji. “He doesn’t have any answers for me. Just more questions.”

“You never told me that…” Yosuke began, and Souji had to move quickly to end the conversation before it turned the way he knew it would.

“There was nothing to tell,” he insisted, in a very clipped and closed manner that silenced Yosuke, but also darkened the expression on his face. “Like I said – Amada-kun doesn’t have any answers for us.”

The last word hung heavily on the silence that followed: not just _me_ this time, but _us_. Finding another Persona-user, one whose powers had developed in a different place and time, had at first seemed like just the thing they needed; Amada’s guidance had been essential in returning Yosuke’s Shadow to his body, so surely he would have some idea as to why his Persona had not returned as well. But he had no more answers for that problem than he did for Souji’s questions about this other young man capable of manifesting multiple other selves. They were, for the time being at least, on their own.

“I don’t like it,” said Yosuke. “That guy knows all about us, but he doesn’t seem to want us to know about them. Doesn’t that seem weird to you?”

“It’s not _weird_ ,” Nanako retorted. “Ken-kun’s friends are involved in business and the police and things like that. He can’t just blab about them whenever he feels like it.”

“He could tell _us_. We’re all Persona-users, right? We’re kind of on the same side, here…”

From across one of the metal walkways that connected the entrance hall hub to the rest of the TV world, there was a scuffle and a loud crash, and Souji held up a hand to call for quiet. The three of them stood stock-still for a moment as they waited to see what had caused the disturbance, and then Souji made a quick gesture with his raised hand. Yosuke ducked behind the stack of televisions and emerged with a sword, which he tossed to Souji, and a pair of knives that he quickly tucked up against his sleeves.

“Is it Teddie?” Nanako breathed. Yosuke held a finger to his lips and stepped in front of her. Souji did not tear his eyes away from the encroaching fog.

In another minute, the figures responsible for the commotion came into view: black, writhing masses with bright pinprick eyes, dragging themselves closer and closer toward their position with their gangly, spidery arms. There weren’t more than half a dozen, but their appearance at all was an unwelcome intrusion.

“What the hell?” Yosuke hissed, bringing his knives up to shield his body. “Since when do the shadows come this far out?”

“It’s unusual,” Souji agreed. He raised his sword in a guard that would not deter the creatures’ approach in any way, but would at least buy him a second if they decided to strike first. “Nanako-chan, don’t leave Yosuke’s side.”

Nanako nodded and moved closer to Yosuke, behind him and out of the way of his range of motion. Yosuke didn’t argue effectively being told to stay behind, but that didn’t surprise Souji. As angry as he was at Souji’s attempts to keep him out of harm’s way, and as eager as he was to prove he was still capable in battle, he was as no-nonsense as ever when it came to protecting someone he cared about.

They came together in the middle of the entrance hall, encircled by the stark black and white rings and the disturbing figures outlined in chalk on the pristine tile floor, marred only by an old coppery stain that lay beneath Souji’s feet. He glanced down at it, recalled the crushing despair he had felt on the day it had been made, and he promised his two most important people in that moment that he would not let anything like that happen again.

The shadows at the head of the group rushed toward them, and Souji dashed out to meet them head-on. He lashed out with his sword in one, two, three, four perfectly precise cuts, severing flailing limbs and slicing bodies that were eerily insubstantial. Their guttural screams rose up around him as he killed them, as they lost their arms to his blade while they grabbed for him. While they writhed and died on the floor, he stepped over their carcasses, silently daring the others congregating on the walkway to come and meet the same fate as the ones he had slaughtered: they didn’t move. He felt powerful with a sword in his hand, an unshakeable pillar of strength that would need to be toppled if the shadows had any hope of bringing harm upon his family, and, being creatures of instinct, they felt that power keenly, and hesitated in the name of self-preservation.

The standoff lasted only a handful of seconds. Souji started toward them, flicking the oily black blood from his blade as he stalked across the floor, and though they visibly recoiled, they did not flee. He raised his sword, fully prepared to cut them down – and stopped. Beyond them, further down the walkway, more dark shapes appeared in the fog, and then more beyond them that were still nearly indistinguishable from this distance. Souji took a step back.

“There’s a lot more coming,” he called back to Yosuke and Nanako. “Something’s going on. Let’s head back before this gets out of hand.”

“Yosuke-nii—!”

Souji whirled on the spot. Yosuke was standing where he’d left him, with Nanako close by, but his weapons were lowered, and he was staring out into the sea of fog with a vacant expression on his face – and behind them, another host of shadows was crawling over the walkway on the opposite side of the lot. “ _Yosuke!_ ”

Yosuke started as he snapped back to reality. Nanako yanked on his arm, and he immediately turned around and headed to cut off the shadows’ approach, knives flashing wildly. Souji didn’t have time to be confused. Emboldened by the arrival of reinforcements, the shadows closest to him launched their attack, and he had to turn his full attention to countering them before he was overwhelmed. Realizing he couldn’t fight them all one by one, he drew a deep, calming breath, and called out to his other selves for aid.Mada brought his wrath down on them in a fiery blaze, Sraosha in divine punishment, and together they decimated the advancing swarm. There was a break in the assault as the shadows regrouped, and Souji dashed across the lot to help Yosuke, who was killing shadows as they came and holding his ground, but wasn’t making any headway against the horde. Yoshitsune this time, another blade in addition to theirs, and his quick and fearsome strikes helped to thin out their numbers.

“Big bro—!” Nanako shouted. Souji looked to her, and then to where she was pointing. Opposite the stack of televisions, long black arms were reaching up over the edge of the railing, grasping for something to hold on to.

“Come _on_!” Yosuke groaned, as he viciously stabbed another shadow. “Where the hell are they all coming from?!”

“We’re leaving,” Souji declared. “Now.”

“Yeah, good call, partner.”

Yosuke threw one of his knives at the shadow closest to Souji, which staggered backward to dodge, giving them enough time to safely disengage and make a run for the televisions. Keeping Nanako practically glued to his side, and with Yosuke grasping the hem of his shirt so he wouldn’t be left behind, Souji clambered through the lowest of the television screens and pulled them to safety.

 

***

Nanako was disappointed that their expedition into the other world had failed; she didn’t say as much out loud, but she was quiet and withdrawn the whole way home and for the rest of the evening. Souji promised her that they would look into what had caused the unusual surge of shadows inside the TV, and when it was taken care of, they would try again, even if it meant waiting until she came home during Golden Week or later. That cheered her up somewhat, but it was clear she was frustrated with the failure of either her Shadow or her Persona to show, and probably worried about what that might mean.

Souji slept well, exhausted from the physically demanding work of sword fighting and the mentally demanding work of summoning his Personas. He woke only once in the middle of the night, and was about to roll over and go back to sleep when he noticed that Yosuke, in the fashion he had taken to lately, was still awake.

“Can’t sleep?” Souji murmured, pulling up closer to him and draping an arm across his chest.

“Mm.”

“Something on your mind?”

Yosuke let the silence that followed that question drag out just a bit too long before answering, “Yeah, just – worried about Ted. There were an awful lot of shadows… And we’ve never seen them get that close to our entrance before. He might be in trouble in there.”

“I think you’re right,” Souji agreed. “There was something off about their behaviour. We should bring the others with us next time and check it out as soon as we can.”

Yosuke turned his head on his pillow to look at him. “Do I hear a _me_ included in that group?”

 _Only because I’m exhausted and comfortable and_ miss this _and I don’t want to fight_ , thought Souji. He pressed closer to Yosuke under the blankets and pulled him tighter into the fold of his arms. “We’ll be safer in a larger group,” he mumbled. “And I won’t leave you out of something like that. You did great today.”

“…Thanks, partner.”

They kissed, briefly and chastely; a quick affirmation of their bond rather than a prelude to something more intimate. Souji was far too worn out for much more than that anyway, and Yosuke was distracted and distant – there, but also somewhere else entirely. When Souji kissed the corner of his mouth and Yosuke barely seemed to realize he’d done it, Souji suspected that Teddie was not the only concern keeping Yosuke awake that night.

“When we got pincered by the shadows earlier, you spaced out,” said Souji. “You heard something over there, didn’t you?”

Another long, long pause. “Like what?” Yosuke asked.

“You tell me.”

Yosuke shrugged. “I… honestly, I don’t know. It might have been my Shadow. Might have been Susano-O. It was – I don’t know, it was _far away_. Too far away to hear.”

“So you weren’t _hearing_ it, then.”

“No. Argh, it’s… it’s hard to explain. You know what it’s like when someone you trust gives you really good advice? Even if it wasn’t your idea, you still feel awesome just going along with it? That’s what it felt like. I don’t know what it was telling me to do, but I – partner, I really, really wanted to do it.”

And that’s when Souji heard it: an alarming strain in Yosuke’s voice that drastically altered the entire context of his words. Whatever Yosuke had felt compelled to do, he hadn’t _wanted_ to want to do it at all.

“…You lost control of yourself?” Souji asked.

“Just for a second. I saw you tear through those shadows, and then the next thing I knew, Nanako was tugging my arm…“

Souji covered first his eyes with his hand, and then his mouth, stifling an exasperated sigh. It wasn’t Yosuke’s fault; there was no point in getting angry. But now he knew for certain that he couldn’t take Yosuke with him to the other world if he was going to have another blank spell at a critical moment. Today could have gone much, much worse. He’d been foolish to cave to Yosuke’s demands, instead of doing what he knew was right.

“Okay,” he finally said, when he had calmed down a little. “Let me know if it happens again – especially out here. We’ll figure it out.”

Yosuke snorted derisively. “Throw it on the pile, I guess. I’m sure we’ll get around to it whenever Susano-O decides to wander home.”

“I still feel like Naoto was on to something the last time we saw her. Your Shadow probably still wants something from you. Have you given that any more thought?”

“I’m trying, partner, honestly.” Yosuke sighed deeply. “It’s confusing. This’d be so much easier if it was like going to see a doctor or a shrink or something. Let someone else take a look at me and tell me what they think is wrong.”

Souji paused. “That actually gives me an idea,” he said.

“Uh… it does?” Yosuke asked sceptically. “I don’t think this is the kind of problem a shrink can help me with, dude…”

“No, not that,” said Souji. “Well, kind of. Instead of someone looking at you, it’d be you looking at someone else.”

“…Yeah, you’ve totally lost me.”

“Bear with me for a second. Shadows like we know them are something that their hosts know about, but deny to themselves and keep hidden from everyone else. But a normal Shadow – a psychological one – is actually the opposite. It’s something that’s easy for everyone else to see, but difficult for the individual to accept is a part of them. They might not even have any idea it’s there at all. So some people think that when you encounter a person you really dislike, what you’re reacting to isn’t really something about _them_ , but rather, something hidden about yourself that you see reflected in that person. They display something horrible that you can’t even admit is a part of you, so you take it out on them instead. Get it?”

“I think so…”

“So…” said Souji slowly. “Let’s give it a try. What don’t you like about me?”

Yosuke stared at him in the darkness like he had grown at least two extra heads. “You’re kidding me.”

“I won’t get mad. I want to help you figure this out.”

“I don’t – dude, I don’t know. There isn’t really anything.”

“Yosuke, we’ve been at each other’s throats for months now. There has to be something.”

“Yeah, okay, you give me pop quizzes at two in the morning,” Yosuke huffed. “Look, I’ll think about it, okay? It’s a part of me, so obviously I must know what it wants. I just have to try harder.”

“…Okay,” said Souji, willing to concede that the dead of night was perhaps not the best time for this particular exercise. He kissed him once more, and rested his head comfortably near the crook of his neck. “Sleep on it, then.”

“All right,” Yosuke mumbled. “I’ll sleep on it.”

But he didn’t.


	3. Chapter 3

The worst of their fights had been the first one.

Not their first one ever – if you didn’t include their punching match alongside the river, their first one ever had been their bitter standoff in the hospital all those years ago. Bad, but all said and done, easily resolved once the truth of their mistakes had come out.

Not their first fight since they’d started dating, either. That one had been in college, when Souji had gone to a party with his classmates and had come home utterly wasted and hanging off a stranger who had turned out to be his ex-boyfriend. But the fallout had withstood only a few days of Souji’s profuse apologies and sincere declarations – it was over between them and nothing had happened and his ex had just been making sure he arrived home safely after drinking so much, and his overindulgence had been his method of dealing with being in the same room with him for the first time since their breakup – until eventually Yosuke caved and forgave him. In those cases and in others like them, they’d made up and moved on, endured the normal turbulence experienced in friendship and in love and in the mixture of the two that defined their relationship, and otherwise got along as well as they always had.

Their first fight after he’d lost Susano-O, however, had been different. It was also the first of many Yosuke didn’t really remember having.

 

***

 _He blinks, and suddenly he’s standing in the kitchen, his head throbbing and his heart pounding and his throat strung tight like he’s been screaming, or trying not to cry, or both. Souji’s got him by the collar of his shirt, the fabric twisted tight between the fingers of his curled fists, pinning him against the counter and preventing his escape. And Souji’s face, always so passive and placid, is rippling like the Samegawa – this close, he can see the muscles working around his mouth as he clenches his teeth, around his eyes as they dart back and forth wildly between Yosuke’s, in his neck as he swallows thickly. He’s shaking, from head to toe. Yosuke’s shaking too, partly on his own, and partly from absorbing the tremors in Souji’s hands._

 _His eyes dart sideways. Nanako’s frozen in the doorway, a hand pressed over her mouth, eyes wide and streaming tears as she watches them._

 _Souji’s voice, when he speaks, isn’t anything louder than a strained whisper – but one Yosuke could have heard from clear across the room. Hoarsely, he says, “I think you should leave,” and it is not one bit a polite suggestion._

 _Yosuke swallows. Nods. Doesn’t really know if he’s leaving for a minute or an hour or a day or a week, or what will happen if he comes back earlier or later than he should. Souji’s fingers slacken around the fabric of his shirt, and Yosuke steps away, onto a broken shard of a glass he doesn’t remember holding or breaking (except now that he’s calming down, he does remember, remembers dropping it when Souji seized him, after he’d said –)_

 _He doesn’t stay an extra minute to pack a bag. Doesn’t apologize yet. He wants to get it all straight in his head first, what happened, and it’s still taking its time coming together. It’s raining outside, cold and foggy, and his coat is draped across the back of a chair. He just grabs it and goes._

 _He stays with Chie for three days. She spends long hours at work, which is also what he does when he’s not holed up on her couch well into the night, trying to convince himself he really_ does _remember everything, despite feeling like he doesn’t. There’s a fine distinction there that he can’t quite explain to Chie when she asks. He remembers breaking the glass. He remembers it because it_ happened _, because there’s irrefutable evidence that he’d done it. It’s a memory like a snapshot of you after your fifth or sixth drink is a memory; he remembers that it happened – he just doesn’t remember doing it._ __

 _Like he doesn’t remember getting angry at Souji for pressing him to figure out how he’d lost Susano-O, as if it were_ his _fault he was gone. Like he doesn’t remember shouting, shoving, screaming that he didn’t need Souji to_ save him _, god damn it, just to make himself feel better because he’d failed to save Dojima. Like he doesn’t remember the look on Souji’s face, as though he’d shoved a knife into his gut and twisted it and spat on the wound. He looks back on it like it happened to someone else, like it was a horrible past life, as he stares at the phone in his hand and calls home._

 _Souji doesn’t take him back right away. They’ve argued before, but they’ve never been physically violent with each other, and he tells him it’s not something he takes lightly, especially not with Nanako in the house. Yosuke says he understands. Doesn’t try to explain that he didn’t mean to do it. He’s pretty sure that’s what they all say._

 _In the end, though, Yosuke apologizes, and Souji forgives him, and he returns home. All their past arguments had been followed by euphoric, reconciliatory periods of joking and affection and almost-worth-it make-up sex, but not this one. This one, they recover from slowly, circling around each other like injured animals, too concerned at first with tending their own wounds to see to the other’s. But eventually things fall back into place, like they’re starting from the beginning: affectionate words and smiles, then guarded touches and testing kisses, and when they finally work their way towards sex it’s a rebuilding of trust all over again._

 _That trust between them is something Yosuke is sure he can’t live without. He just wishes he knew why, then, he feels so compelled to sabotage it._

 

***

Compared to that, the dispute that followed the next day was a stroll in the park.

“— _not_ what you said last night—“

“That was _before_ you told me you blanked out, Yosuke—“

“— _always_ do this, you _always_ try to keep me locked up like some kind of helpless—“

“—don’t be ridiculous, I’m not doing anything like that. If you would just calm down—“

“I’m calm, okay?!”

“You’re yelling.”

“No I’m not!”

Souji’s sharp sigh and glare didn’t seem to cut as deeply as they used to; either he was getting sloppy and not putting the effort in anymore, or Yosuke was simply acclimatizing to being on the receiving end of that look. “I have to go to work,” he said, walking through the kitchen and toward the door with Yosuke on his heels. “Take it easy today, and think things through. We’ll talk later.”

Brushed off, just like that. Yosuke glared furiously at Souji’s back as he stooped in the porch to slip on his shoes. Why was he always the one who had to calm down, think, be reasonable, be _wrong_? Souji wasn’t perfect, no matter how hard he tried to look the part. He was just as capable of being wrong as anybody else, and if he was going to try and shut Yosuke down at every turn, then he intended to let him know that. “No,” Yosuke spat. “I’m not wrong on this one. God dammit, Souji, you need to let me do this!”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’? Because we’re equals, remember? Or at least we’re _supposed_ to be...”

Souji straightened up then, and faced him. “No, not that. I mean why do I need to ‘let’ you do this? You don’t need my permission. Ask Kanji or Chie or Yukiko to take you into the TV, if you’re so damn sure this is what you want. You don’t need my approval.”

Yosuke threw up his hands and floundered for words, and couldn’t find them. “Because… I—“

“Because my approval is what you want, right?” asked Souji, as he took a step closer. “You want to show me you can still fight, and that’s all you care about. You want to prove me wrong. You don’t care about what happens when you’re just a second too late or too slow or too fast, and then I’m the one who has to…“

“Has to what?” Yosuke prompted with a sneer. “Make up for me? Pick up the slack? Go on, say it!”

“Come back alone.”

The resounding silence hit him like a sledgehammer. Yosuke’s face crumpled, wiped of all contempt in an instant by the sombre tone, the raw vulnerability in Souji’s voice, and pure shame engulfed him in the absence of all that anger. He looked away, unable to bear Souji’s eyes on him. His fears weren’t unfounded: Yosuke had already forced him to endure something like that once. Stupid. Selfish. The very sight of Souji lying dead would destroy Yosuke in ways he couldn’t even fathom, and yet here he was, ready and willing to risk inflicting that pain on him a second time. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do it again, promised _Souji_ he wouldn’t do it again. What good was he if he couldn’t keep a promise as simple as that?

Souji sighed again – softer this time, signalling the end of a fight rather than the beginning of one – and the tension between them dissipated. Technically, Yosuke supposed, he’d lost the argument, but he wasn’t even sure anymore that it was one he’d wanted to have in the first place. “We _are_ equals, Yosuke,” Souji insisted. “And we’re going to work together. You’re going to get Susano-O back, and I’m going to help you. Concentrate on that. Leave the fighting to me.”

Yosuke struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. It didn’t go down easy. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted it to be like old times, when Souji was his leader and he was the trusted second and they fought side by side instead of face to face. This wasn’t what he wanted at all. “But that’s not—“

“There’s more to this than killing shadows, okay? I can handle that. But you’re the only one who can handle _this_.” Souji tapped Yosuke’s temples lightly with two fingers on each side. “Throwing yourself into danger isn’t going to bring your Persona back, Yosuke. You need to do some hard thinking and figure this out. You want to help Teddie, and Nanako-chan? Then take care of this first, so that you’ll be ready when we really need to count on you.”

God damn Souji. Even when they fought, he always knew exactly what to say.

Souji leaned the last couple of inches toward him and bumped their foreheads together. It was a display of affection he had taken to lately, after they were done growling and spitting at each other, when things were too tense for a kiss but they still needed to know that they were okay. “Partners. Got it?”

“Yeah,” sighed Yosuke, closing his eyes and accepting, at least for the moment, that this was the way it had to be. “Got it.”

“Good.” Souji pecked him on the cheek, and then retrieved his briefcase from the table. “Now I really have to go. Kashiwagi likes to slip, um… _pictures_ of herself into my desk when I’m late.”

Yosuke chuckled, despite not really wanting to. “Must be tough being the hottest and least crazy teacher in the whole school.”

“ _Least_ crazy, right. As long as we don’t talk about TV worlds and magical creatures living inside my head, I get to pretend that’s true. I’ll give you hottest, though.”

“Of course.”

Souji grinned. “See you tonight. Don’t forget to call the others – make sure they’re free to meet tonight so we can figure out what to do about finding Teddie.”

Yosuke said that he would, waved him off, and stood there alone in the kitchen for a minute after he was gone.

Let Souji do the fighting. Could he do that?

Yesterday’s ambush inside the TV proved that time and lack of use hadn’t diminished Souji’s battle skills in the slightest. He was still as sharp as his blade, his attacks both effortless and powerful, his movements quick and sure and graceful. On top of that, his Personas had leapt to his aid as soon as he’d called for them. He had so many other selves, too many for Yosuke to keep track of them all, but he knew everything about each of their strengths and weaknesses and could call upon just the right ones at just the right time. Yosuke was in awe of him, like he had been when they were kids – and maybe jealous of him just like he had been then, too.

He wanted so badly to help Souji fight. But the truth was that Souji simply didn’t need his help anymore.

Yosuke wandered back through the apartment, fully intending to go wallow in bed for another hour before trying to face the day, but he stopped in their bedroom doorway when he heard movement from across the hall. He peeked through the crack made by Nanako’s open door and saw that she was already awake and busy. _Of course she is. Probably woke her up yelling, idiot._ He watched as she dragged an empty box across her room and dumped it near a pile of books and clothes and belongings that she had piled neatly next to the door, and began packing them in a meticulous sort of order he could only guess she had learned from her big brother.

He reached out to push her door open, paused, and then drew his hand back without touching it, deciding it best not to disturb her. Nanako was all grown up, now. He still remembered when she’d barely stood up to his hips, all huge eyes and pigtails, and bright laughter that had faded into deep sadness after she’d lost her father. She used to need him, too, he thought. Maybe not as much as she’d needed Souji, but he’d still been there for her, especially when Souji couldn’t be. Now she was ready to leave home, go off to college, find a job, marry some kid, raise one of her own. Maybe. Admittedly, he hadn’t exactly followed through with those plans himself, but in a way, he supposed he had.

And now she was leaving. He’d done his job, as best as he could manage, and now she didn’t need him anymore.

It seemed like he wasn’t needed anywhere.

“Yosuke-nii, you’re being creepy.”

Suddenly remembering that he was still hovering outside her room, Yosuke pushed Nanako’s door open and grinned at her. “Yeah, well, that’s me.”

“What were you doing?”

He shrugged. “Just… thinking. You need a hand with anything?”

“Not really. You can come keep my floor warm, though.”

She patted the scant space on the floor next to her that wasn’t covered in things that had been torn out of their comfortable spaces in closets and shelves and dressers. He gingerly stepped over her belongings, managing to knock down only one of the piles before settling down cross-legged in the tiny bare spot, his back resting against the wall. It reminded him of Souji’s old room at Dojima’s house, right before he’d returned to the city: ordered chaos, like a well-mannered tornado had dropped by for a visit. Yosuke remembered the way his gut had twisted when he’d seen all those boxes and all that empty space, remembered the way he hadn’t known at the time what that feeling really meant. He knew better, now.

“Those boxes I stacked in the closet are for charity,” said Nanako. “Just in case big bro forgets. The ones under the window are books and stuff I can’t take with me and want to keep here.”

“You’re getting rid of a lot of stuff, huh?”

She shrugged, and smiled. “It seemed like a good time to clear some things out. And now if you guys want to move to another place, you won’t have to worry as much about what to do with my things.”

“Why would we want to move? I like it here.”

She glanced at him, and then went back to arranging the items in her box as tightly as possible for the most efficient use of space. He wanted to whip out his phone and take a picture of it and send it to Souji, who would be so very proud of her. “No reason,” she said airily. “You were staying in Inaba for me, really, so I just figured you might want to go somewhere else now that you can.”

“Haven’t really thought about it,” he lied.

She continued to scrounge for things to pack into what little space was left, and then asked him to pass her the scissors and packing tape. In an effort to make himself useful, Yosuke started peeling off pieces of tape and handing them to her as she needed them. They worked together in silence for a few minutes, before Nanako said quietly, “Yosuke-nii?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you and big bro… going to break up?”

Yosuke flinched, and pretended like he was surprised to hear the question. “What?”

“Sorry. Sometimes you don’t seem very happy together anymore. I was just wondering.”

Yosuke looked down at his hands and fiddled with the roll of tape. If he was going to be honest with himself, then it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it – about leaving Souji, about Souji leaving him, about both of them just taking a step back and some time off from each other. Maybe not for good – it wasn’t like he was interested in pursuing anybody, and he already knew how ragingly jealous the thought of Souji being with someone else made him, thank-you-ex-boyfriend, so obviously on some level he wanted to stay. His Shadow had once wanted him to leave Souji to appease his parents, to bring comfort and stability back to his public life, to end the stress of lying all the time to everyone except their friends and families. But sometimes… sometimes he thought about leaving, too. He was a burden on Souji and Nanako as he was. They deserved better than what he was giving them.

But in the end, in his mind, the only thing worse than what he was going through was to go through it without them, and he knew that leaving was not an option. He just hoped that Souji felt the same way.

“I don’t want to,” he answered at last. “And I don’t think Souji wants to either. We’re just… having a hard time right now, Nanako-chan. Lots of people do after they’ve been together for a while.”

“Yeah,” said Nanako. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I heard you fighting again this morning, so I got a little worried. And I was wondering if you even still wanted to be here or not.”

His chest seemed to tighten with every word out of her mouth. Why did he have to be so stupid? Why did he have to get so angry over nothing? How many arguments had she overheard, and how many times had he made her worry needlessly? “Nanako-chan… of course I do. Look, I know things seem bad right now, but I promise: I love Souji, okay? I’m not going to give up, no matter how bad it gets. This is my fault, and I have to fix it.”

Her blunt silence indicated her agreement with that assessment. Yosuke tried not to be hurt by it, and continued.

“We’ve been through worse before and gotten through, so don’t worry about us. You’re gonna have enough to think about when you get to school, y’know? I’ll fix this somehow.”

Nanako smiled. “Dad used to say that all the time. _I’ll fix this somehow. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make it better._ ”

Yosuke grimaced. He always seemed to trigger those sorts of memories without ever meaning to. “Sorry, Nanako-chan, I didn’t mean—“

“No, it’s okay. It just made me think. Even if it took him a while to learn how, he really did try to make things better. Little things, in his own way. He’d bring home dinner, or carry me on his shoulders, or read me a story when he got home from work.” She smiled up at him. “Big bro would probably like that, too.”

“He’s a bit big to carry on my shoulders. He’d probably like a story, though.”

“Yosuke-nii!”

“I get it,” Yosuke chuckled. “You’re saying I should make it up to him if I’m feeling so awful about it?”

“It can’t hurt to try.”

“Any suggestions?”

She bit her lower lip and looked around, searching among the sealed boxes and old belongings for inspiration. She suddenly gasped and dove for one of the open cartons, producing from it a raggedy-looking stuffed cat, which she thrust toward him.

“…You want me to give him Nyaoya?” Yosuke guessed uncertainly.

“No!” she exclaimed, clutching the poor bedraggled thing close to her chest. “Mai-chan’s cat had kittens a while ago. Now that I won’t be here to sneeze my face off, you should get one for him.”

“Hey, that’s… actually not a bad idea. Maybe he’ll stop feeding the neighbourhood strays if he’s got one of his own.”

“Well, I wouldn’t count on that…”

“…Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“So should I let Mai-chan know you want one?”

Yosuke shook his head. “Not yet. Let’s go to Junes first and pick up some cat food or something, just to give Souji the idea. He’ll _kill me_ if he doesn’t get to pick the thing out himself.”

 

***

At Junes, Yosuke made a valiant effort to carry their purchases by himself: food and water dishes, canned food, dry food, a brush, a collar, a scratching post that wouldn’t be used, a small plush bed that wouldn’t be slept in, a couple of cheap toy mice that would probably provide five minutes of entertainment before being knocked under the stove, and the litter box they were all piled into. Nanako carried the bag of litter. Souji would get the hint from seeing any one of those items, but they figured it best to cover all their bases and have things prepared in case Souji was more enthusiastic about the idea than they were expecting and demanded their home be furnished with a kitten ASAP.

“Anything we’re forgetting?” Yosuke asked. “What else do cats like?”

“Cats don’t like anything. I think we’re okay.”

“Thanks for this, Nanako-chan,” said Yosuke. She tilted her head curiously, so he elaborated. “I know you don’t like to see us argue, so I’ll try harder to make things better… Or we’ll have a dozen cats by the time you get back, either one.”

“Don’t joke about that. We already _do_. We really need to stop him from feeding those feral ones, they’re getting big enough to take on the shrine foxes…”

As they headed for the checkout, a commotion rose up near the customer service desk. A small crowd of people were gathered there, surrounding something in a semi-circle and whispering excitedly to each other. Curious, they made a detour to see what was happening, and as they drew closer to the group, Yosuke thought he caught sight of a startlingly familiar blue and red outfit.

“Is that…?” he whispered.

“ _Teddie!_ ” Nanako squeaked, dropping the bag of litter she’d been holding and shoving her way through the crowd to get to him. Yosuke threw his own armload of supplies down and followed through the gap she’d created in the throng, but the initial rush of joy at finding Teddie safe was short-lived, lasting only until he laid eyes upon him.

Teddie’s suit was frayed and singed, dirty and tattered all over. The customers were chattering to him and about him, as it was his first appearance in Junes in over a year, but instead of soaking up the attention and adoration with his usual lack of modesty, Teddie was almost doubled over, barely seeming to notice any of them were there.

“Ted?” Yosuke asked, his wide grin shrinking into a frown. “Are you okay?”

When Teddie turned toward the sound of Yosuke’s voice, he lost his already precarious balance and stumbled, and Yosuke was barely able to catch him before he hit the floor.

“Something’s wrong!” Nanako gasped as she moved to help Yosuke support him.

“Let’s get him outside.”

They hurried him down to the lobby and then out onto the sidewalk, away from the crowd of onlookers. When Teddie was safely sitting on the ground and propped against the building, Yosuke fumbled for the zipper securing the head of his mascot costume to the body and pulled.

Nanako yelped, and covered her mouth with her hands.

“Holy shit… Ted!” Yosuke tossed the costume head aside and reached for Teddie, who was almost unable to stay upright inside the suit. His body was as battered as his costume – blood was everywhere, streaming down his face and matting his hair and soaking into the fabric. His head lolled onto his shoulder when Yosuke moved him; he was conscious, but just barely. “Ted, wake up! Teddie!”

Nanako called an ambulance before Yosuke was even over his shock, before he could even figure out if calling one was the right thing to _do_ , but it still took too long to arrive. He texted everyone he could think of on the way to the hospital, hoping that _somebody_ could make it and they wouldn’t have to face the hospital staff’s uncomfortable questions alone.

 

 

 _ **Hanamura_Yosuke  
Apr 4 10:52**  
found ted in junes, hurt bad, come 2 hospital_

 _  
_

Replies trickled in as the minutes unfolded.

 

 _ **Tatsumi_Kanji  
Apr 4 12:08**  
on my way_

 _ **Matsushita_Rise  
Apr 4 12:15**  
omg, is he ok???? Im in Tokyo, coming to Okina next week.  
Txt me as soon as u know what’s up!!!!_

 _ **Shirogane_Naoto  
Apr 4 12:18**  
b there tomorrow. inform if ne thing changes_

 _ **Satonaka_Chie  
Apr 4 12: 32**  
TED?! omg be right there!!! getting yukiko!!!_

“Yosuke-nii, you didn’t have to send it to me, I’m sitting right here,” said Nanako, when she checked her phone more than two hours later.

“Oh – yeah, I just… mass texted everyone. Sorry.” Yosuke’s phone buzzed in his hand, signalling an incoming message. He flipped it open immediately, and breathed a sigh of relief to see who it was from.

 _ **Seta_Souji  
Apr 4 13:09**  
Stay calm. I’ll be right there._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no selectable warning available for this in the header, so I'll note here that the end of this chapter contains some slight dub-con.

_April 4, 2022_

 **Monday**  
Early morning  
Argument (3) (resolved)  
Skipped breakfast  
Overcast  
Sleep: six hours

 _Brief argument about Yosuke’s accompaniment during future excursions. Manifesting brief lapses in memory, although seemed to be aware of himself during and after argument…_

Souji paused with his pen hovering above the page, and frowned at what he had written. Of course, Yosuke always _seemed_ to be aware of himself, but last night’s revelation that he sometimes was not certainly changed things. His mind swirled with questions he was dying to ask, but knew Yosuke couldn’t – or simply wouldn’t – answer right now: how long had this been happening? If it happened frequently, how much time did he lose on average? Did he remember anything at all during these episodes, or was his mind completely blank?

And most importantly - had it already happened in the real world?

The notebook spread on his desk before him was one he kept with him as often as he could. Its pages were well-worn, covered in notes and scribbles and corrections and retractions. It had functioned as a journal, once upon a time, but he never could keep up with documenting his thoughts on a regular enough schedule for it to be very meaningful. Consequently, the book bore signs of torn-out pages from where he’d carelessly ripped out everything that had come before, as though all his previous experiences were invalidated by his new ones and he absolutely had to start over from scratch. He’d done so much more with it than he’d thought he would when he’d received it as a gift from his parents ages ago. He’d recorded his rather pessimistic thoughts about moving from the city to Inaba (torn out), made abstract notes about the murder cases (torn out and saved in a shoe box somewhere), sorted out his attraction to and relationship with his first boyfriend (torn out and torn up into the tiniest pieces he could manage)…

And now it was about Yosuke.

More specifically, it was a record of what they fought about, the patterns of his moods, how bad it had been ranked on a half-assed Likert scale (1: Awful; 2: Sort of awful; 3: Neither awful nor pleasant; 4:…), and so on. Toward the back, he scribbled tiny charts of his collected data, visual representations that couldn’t quite predict when the next disaster would strike, but that nonetheless confirmed his feeling that things with Yosuke were getting worse, not better.

He sighed, and set his pen down, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and staring a hole through the page. Their early fights had been _worse_ in the sense that he’d coded them higher on his impromptu scale, but it was likely that he just hadn’t handled them as well because they’d caught him unprepared. He was much more used to them, now. In any event, thanks to old university habits dying hard, he at least had concrete evidence that they were occurring more frequently, if not actually intensifying.

Now he had to figure out what to do about it.

The clouds from this morning had dispersed, and his desk by the window was alternately warmed by pleasant, direct sunlight and cooled by the light early April breeze. Outside, he could hear the sounds of birds chirping and the low hum of people talking indistinctly – and then other, more audible voices closer to his window.

“I’m kinda worried about English this year…”

“Oh, yeah. Mr. Seta took it over from Mr. Kondo, right?”

“Yeah.”

Souji stopped typing at the sound of his name, arrested in equal parts dread and fascination at overhearing someone talk about him when they thought he wasn’t around. Eavesdropping probably wouldn’t lead to anything good, but as in any other aspect of his life, he liked to know what he was up against. It was always best to face the truth, he’d learned, no matter how uncomfortable a truth it was.

“Well, don’t lose any sleep over it. I was failing English last year and he totally saved my ass. He’s pretty cool.”

“Really? I uh… I heard he’s kinda…”

“He’s not as much of a hard-ass as they say, really.”

“That’s not what I meant. Jeez, would you let me finish?”

“All right, all right, sorry. What is it?”

“I heard he… y’know. Likes dudes, dude.”

Souji’s heart stopped.

“What the hell? Where’d you hear that?”

“My mom was telling my aunt about it. Apparently he lives with some guy in the shopping district. Nakamura or something.”

A bark of laughter. “Whoa, are you serious? That’s just wrong, man. I knew he seemed too normal for this school.”

“So what the hell do I do? I can’t take his entire class…”

“Why not? You got a thing for him?”

“Dude!”

“Oh man! Lucky you have trouble with English, huh? You can schedule all kinds of private lessons—“

“Dude, _shut up!_ ”

The boys continued arguing, but their voices grew faint as they abandoned their spot near the window. Souji swallowed the sour taste in his mouth. It had only been a matter of time, he told himself. Inaba was a small town, and rumours travelled fast. His little sister was grown up and moving out, and he was going to continue sharing his apartment with another man. It was already practically an open secret among their closer neighbours – Naoki knew, Daidara knew, Kanji’s _mother_ knew – so of course it was going to escape their little bubble eventually. People were going to talk, and it was going to catch up with him, just like his father had said it would.

He’d known it would happen someday. He just wished he’d been better prepared for it.

The door to the teacher’s lounge slid open, and a student peered inside, interrupting his fretting. Souji quickly flipped his notebook shut.

“Minoru Takahashi?” Souji guessed, going by the name penned into his schedule.

Takahashi nodded. “That’s me. Am I early?”

It was a polite question; Souji’s watch told him he was right on time. “Not at all,” he assured him. He gestured at an empty chair near his desk. Time to put on his teacher mask and set aside his personal issues, he decided. “Please, have a seat.”

The boy did as asked. As he pulled up the chair at the opposite side of the desk and sat down, Souji’s cell phone buzzed atop it abruptly, causing it to skitter an inch or two across the wooden surface. He glanced at the display: a text message, from Yosuke. Probably a guilty one, or another apology. His inbox was full of those.

“Are you going to get that?” Takahashi asked jokingly.

“It can wait,” said Souji.

Takahashi was staring at the phone, since it was closer to his side of the desk, and read the display upside down. “That’s kind of cold. Who’s Yosuke?”

Souji locked eyes with him. There didn’t seem to be any malicious intent behind Takahashi’s words, merely friendly, genuine curiosity. If Souji hadn’t overheard that conversation a few minutes ago, he wouldn’t have thought anything of the question at all. But now his defences were up, and that was exactly where he decided they should be from now on. He plucked the phone from his desk and thumbed the power switch as he slipped it into his pocket.

“No one,” he said, smiling dismissively. “Is there something in particular you wanted to discuss, Takahashi-kun?”

Takahashi sheepishly averted his eyes and cleared his throat, seeming to realize where he was and the extent of his rudeness. “I’m sorry. Uh, actually, I heard you ran extra tutorials for students interested in going to university and…”

They talked business for the remainder of the morning. Souji allowed himself to be a little impressed with Takahashi. Usually students would wait until they failed their May midterms before coming to him for help, so it was nice to see someone willing to work from the get-go. He was a late transfer during his second year, and claimed his parents were concerned about how the interruption of switching schools would affect his post-secondary prospects. It was easy for Souji to relate to him, given those circumstances. In fact, there was something decidedly familiar about the boy, but Souji couldn’t quite place the feeling, until he decided that he was probably seeing something of himself in his student. Had he really only been Takahashi’s age when he’d been throwing himself through televisions and chasing down shadows? Damn. He was getting old.

It wasn’t until Takahashi had left and Souji was typing up notes about their meeting on his laptop that he remembered Yosuke’s text message.

 

***

He was the last to arrive at the hospital. His late reception of Yosuke’s text had put him behind the others to begin with, and the stop he’d made at home to pick up the health card and other information they kept on hand for Teddie in case of emergency made him even later. When he at last hurried into the waiting room, he found Yosuke, Nanako, Chie, Yukiko, and Kanji all visibly shaken, but much calmer than he’d been expecting.

“How is he?” he asked. He looked anxiously to each of them, unsure of who would answer, but everyone’s eyes were turned to Yosuke.

“He’s alive,” Yosuke answered with a sigh. There were stains on his shirt, Souji noticed, dark red ones that blotched the front and ringed the hem of his sleeves, and the sight only made him more impatient to hear the story. “Dumb bear scared the hell out of us. I thought he was a goner – I mean, there was so much blood...”

“He’s lucky he’s not human,” muttered Kanji, low enough so as not to be heard over the low buzz of other people’s conversations and the small television set in the corner. “His suit’s a wreck. Can’t even imagine what he must have looked like when you guys found him.”

“Kanji-kun, don’t say that,” Yukiko admonished him. “Of course Teddie is human.”

“Wha…? Hey, I just meant – c’mon, the guy’s never gonna have grey hair and bad backs like the rest of us. That ain’t normal. And walkin’ away from a pummelling like that ain’t normal either.”

Souji frowned. “But is he _okay_?”

Chie shrugged helplessly. “We… we don’t really know. The doctors won’t let us see him. Oh – and they need his information, Souji-kun…”

Souji spoke with the receptionist and provided the remainder of Teddie’s medical information that Yosuke couldn’t. Some of it had been expertly fabricated with some assistance from Naoto, once it had become clear that Teddie being something of a medical enigma with absolutely no previous health records would raise suspicions if he was going to be spending any extended time in their world. With the red tape out of the way, Souji sank onto one of the hard plastic chairs between Yosuke and Nanako and let them fill him in on the situation.

“Trust Teddie to draw a crowd even when he’s hurt,” Chie grumbled. “We’re gonna have to make up some kind of cover story. Your parents are gonna find out he’s been spotted again, Yosuke.”

“I know,” he groaned. “We’ll think of something. Disgruntled ex-employee – some drunk guy got his hands on the suit – whatever. They don’t need to know it was really Teddie inside it.”

“More importantly, what happened to him in the first place?” pondered Yukiko.

Souji and Yosuke exchanged uneasy glances.

“Hey!” Chie hissed, her finger raised accusingly. “I saw that! You’re doing your mind-reading thing. That’s not fair.”

Yosuke rolled his eyes. “We don’t have a ‘mind-reading thing’, thank you, Chie.”

“Then what was _that_ about?”

“We went over to the other side yesterday,” explained Souji. As the others started speaking all at once, bursting with indignation that they’d been left behind, he held up his hands to silence them. “Look, we’re sorry we didn’t tell you. We were going to ask you to go back with us today.”

“It was my decision,” said Nanako guiltily. “I wanted to go in there and make sure I’d overcome my Shadow. But…”

“That wasn’t what we found over there,” finished Yosuke. “Other shadows showed up instead: the normal ones. Dozens and dozens of them. We fought them off as best as we could, but… they just kept _coming_.”

“We were worried about Teddie being alone in there, but there was nothing we could do. We had to get out,” said Souji. “We were going to gather you guys and go back in for him today, but… well. Too late for that now, I suppose.”

“Poor Teddie…” whispered Yukiko. “Does that mean he tried to fight them all by himself?”

“More likely he was just trying to escape. The entrance hall was completely overrun. There was no way out but through.”

“Dammit… stupid bear,” Kanji growled. “Tryin’ to do too much all by himself, as usual…”

Chie pounded a fist flat against her open palm. “So we gotta go investigate, right? We can’t leave the shadows so close to the entrance. Someone’s gotta do something about them.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” said Souji. “As soon as Teddie’s feeling up to it, we should go back in and see what we can find out.”

To his surprise, no one said anything positive or negative about his declaration. No one said anything at all, in fact. He looked at each of them again, and saw uneasy faces all around.

“…What is it?” he asked slowly.

“Big bro,” said Nanako, “Teddie might not… wake up for a while. The doctors said they’re trying really hard, but…”

“You know what Teddie does to medical equipment,” said Yosuke glumly. “There’s no way to know how long it’s gonna take.”

Souji’s heart sank. “That’s not good. He’s our navigator, and he’s the only one who might have an idea about what’s going on over there. Going without him would be too risky.”

“Surely with all of us together…” said Yukiko.

“Yeah,” Kanji agreed. “You can’t expect us to just sit here and do nothin’.”

“If the alternative is we bring you in here looking like Teddie…” Souji countered.

“But who knows what the shadows can get up to while we wait?” said Chie. “It can’t be safe to just leave them there…”

“Partner,” said Yosuke, “let’s compromise. Rise’s just as good at reading the shadows as Teddie is, and she said she’ll be in town next week. If Teddie’s not up to going back over there by then, could we go with her instead?”

Souji chewed on his lower lip to prevent himself from echoing the word that stood out most to him in Yosuke’s proposal: _we_. It drove him absolutely crazy sometimes, how short Yosuke’s memory for their blow-outs seemed to be. Did he already forget what they were fighting about? Then again, Souji couldn’t entirely fault him. Yosuke wasn’t the one who recorded their issues in a secret notebook, as if they could be charted and predicted and rationalized like common statistics. Maybe Yosuke wasn’t the one with the problem, in that regard.

“I understand your reluctance, Souji-kun,” said Yukiko. “But I think the others are right. We probably shouldn’t wait too long before acting on this, or it might be too late.”

Souji nodded. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to investigate, after all; he was just trying to think of his team, his friends and family, and what would be best for each of them. From the ecstatic emails and text messages she’d sent him not long ago, he knew Rise was going to be a mother soon. Putting her in danger meant putting _two_ people in danger, and that simply wasn’t his call to make. “All right,” he said. “If Rise’s up to it, then that’s what we’ll do. Otherwise… we’re just going to have to wait for Teddie.”No one wanted to return home, but there was nothing for them to do at the hospital. Hours after they’d gathered in the waiting room, a doctor emerged to inform them that Teddie was stable, and no longer bleeding, but still not awake. They were free to come back during visiting hours, but otherwise Souji would be informed immediately if there were any changes to his condition. Souji thanked the doctor, and reluctantly left the hospital together with his friends.

Fog rolled in off the river on their way home. And the day had started so beautifully.

 

***

“Nanako-chan asked me if we’re going to break up.”

Souji cracked open his eyes and blinked at the ceiling a few times to clear them. Yosuke had a knack for waking him just as he was on the brink of falling asleep, when he dared to broach those conversation topics that were off-limits while they were fully awake. Maybe he thought Souji was asleep now. He toyed with the idea of pretending, just to see what else Yosuke would say, but was hard pressed to think of something more disgustingly underhanded to do. So instead, he asked, “What did you tell her?”

Yosuke was quiet for a long stretch that made Souji nervous. He started steeling himself against the possible responses, began preparing for what he would do if Yosuke’s answer to Nanako’s question had been _yes_ , and was dismayed – but not at all surprised – to discover how easy it was. Maybe he’d been expecting this for longer than he was willing to admit to himself.

“I said I don’t want to,” said Yosuke at last.

“…But you didn’t say _no_.”

“That wasn’t as good as a _no_? ‘Sides… it’s not the kind of thing I can just decide on my own, one way or the other. And I didn’t want to speak for you, so...”

Souji didn’t bother pointing out the obvious: that what Yosuke had really done was dodge Nanako’s question by answering in a way that left him an opening. _I don’t want to_ didn’t mean _it’s not going to happen_. He didn’t say this out loud for the very simple reason that in Yosuke’s place, he wasn’t sure he would have answered any differently.

“You don’t have anything to say about that?” Yosuke asked, when Souji’s silence had worn on too long. “Nanako-chan’s asking if we’re calling it quits. You don’t think that’s a bad sign?”

“You said you didn’t want to. As long as that’s true, then it’s good enough for me.”

“I… I _don’t_ want to,” Yosuke sighed. Souji could almost hear the word he surely wanted to add to the end of that sentence, could visualize his lips shaping it, feel it cut him down before it was even spoken: _but_. That word would be the end of them and all they’d worked so hard to build together, and he wasn’t ready to give that up yet. So what if things were hard? So what if they had problems? So what if they’d long since said goodbye to that idealized, starry-eyed kind of love their younger selves had professed for each other? None of that had to mean it was over, did it?

Yosuke never did speak that dreaded word. There was a rustle in the dark as he turned and pressed himself into Souji’s side, and that simple gesture sufficiently quieted Souji’s fears.

“I’m… kinda scared,” Yosuke admitted, tacking an unconvincing laugh onto the end of his whisper. “I hate feeling weak. Hate feeling like… maybe we could have helped Teddie, if there wasn’t something wrong with me.”

“It wasn’t you,” Souji assured him. “I couldn’t do anything, either.”

Yosuke snorted. “Yeah, bullshit. I saw you tear those shadows to pieces, partner. You could have done anything. Me… I go for Susano-O and all I can feel is _him_. Like he’s _right there_ , ready to bust out the second I let my guard down.”

“Your Shadow…?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re still feeling him really strongly?”

“It’s… it’s worse now. Before it felt like – when I had Susano-O, I was safe from him. He was still _there_ , like he always is, but I was safe. He can be my Shadow, or he can be my Persona, but he can’t be both at once, right? And I keep wondering… Now that one’s gone, what’s stopping the other one from just taking over?”

Souji’s skin crawled. “Yosuke… Is that what you think’s happening?”

“I don’t know, man,” whispered Yosuke, but the tightness of his voice betrayed his very real fear of exactly that. “I don’t know what’s happening to me…”

For all the times lately that Yosuke downright scared Souji, to the point where he just didn’t know what to make of him anymore, there were moments like this one: moments of quiet, desperate vulnerability, when he chose to discard his bravado and show his fear, his doubt, and his trust in him. _Awake in the dark_ Yosuke, _afraid of himself and what he might do_ Yosuke, was such a far cry from the Yosuke that kept trying to attack him that he knew there had to be _something_ horribly wrong. And maybe, if they were lucky, there was still a chance to fix it. “As long as you can still be afraid of him,” said Souji, “I think you’ll be okay. It proves that whatever else your Shadow is doing right now, you’re still you. It’s not over yet.”

Even in the dark, Souji could see Yosuke brighten, just a little.

“Thanks, partner,” he murmured. “I don’t know if that’s true, but thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

They lay together in comfortable silence for a little while longer, watching the shadows cast on their ceiling by trees and power lines outside the window. As Souji’s breathing slowed and his eyelids began to grow heavy once more, Yosuke spoke again.

“I uh…” Yosuke’s fingers fiddled with the hem of Souji’s t-shirt. “I wanted to say sorry for this morning. I should have kept a calmer head about it. Guess I haven’t really learned how yet…”

Yosuke wasn’t being insincere – but this respite wouldn’t last. Souji knew that much. He’d seen it too many times, received too many apologies for them to really matter anymore. But any sign of the old Yosuke was a welcome one, so he smiled and echoed the apology, and allowed Yosuke to inch close enough to kiss him on the lips.

It was a long kiss, slow and sleepy – Souji’s favourite kind, if he really had to choose. It reminded him of lazy mornings, lazier nights, and stolen moments in the middle of the day, like when they’d been younger and still newly in love and sneaking a kiss in the back of the theatre or behind the curtain of a photo booth had been the most incredible thrill. Souji still had pictures from the booths, blank spots in his memory of certain movies, and though he didn’t recall any of the kisses themselves to be particularly special, the powerful feeling of those private, intimate, us-against-the-world moments stuck with him strongly. This was one of those moments, too. Five, ten, twenty years down the road – if they didn’t crash and burn, if he could just hold them together long enough – maybe he’d be thinking of photo booths and dark movie theatres and the bedroom in their little apartment in Inaba.

Yosuke allowed a sliver of space between them, not even enough to really say the kiss had been broken – just enough to sigh lightly against his lips. The breath was followed by the faintest touch of his warm tongue, trailing feather-light on Souji’s lower lip, and Souji, deciding that he liked where this was going, opened his mouth obligingly.

They shifted, readjusting knees and elbows to allow more body contact, trying to crush together in a configuration that wasn’t uncomfortable for either of them. Souji got a good grip on Yosuke’s shirt and Yosuke climbed on top of him, and each new kiss grew longer and deeper than the last. Yosuke’s lips were being adventurous, pressing fully to Souji’s mouth, then to the corner, then his cheek and jaw and the cord of his throat. A partially-stifled gasp escaped Souji as Yosuke bit down on his neck, suckled the injured skin, and then licked it soothingly like an apology. An empty apology – he could feel the wicked curve of his smile against his neck, the cheeky bastard. Yosuke got off on making Souji wear turtlenecks, damn him anyway, but that was all right. Souji got off on not being able to stop him.

Strong hands secured a powerful grip on his wrists and pinned them to the mattress above his head. Yosuke put his weight into the grip as he leaned down over Souji and continued to work his mouth down his neck, dotting the skin with pale red marks that would eventually turn dark and ugly, but for now, made Souji squirm and whimper softly. He tested the grip, half-heartedly struggling against it in that way that Yosuke liked, and was rewarded with a few quiet, pleased noises of Yosuke’s own. Their physical relationship had taken a while to negotiate at first – Souji’s first lover had been his senpai, and following his lead in bed had been as natural as following him in any other social situation, but Yosuke had been astoundingly skittish in those early days, and had preferred to let Souji take charge of things until they became more comfortable with each other. Since then, he’d learned that he rather liked Yosuke in control, liked to let go and not have to be his carefully collected self under those sometimes-clumsy, but always-eager hands.

Unfortunately, those hands seemed to edge closer to the _clumsy_ end of the scale tonight. They applied pressure to the base of his palms in such a way that caused a hot spike of pain to shoot up and down his wrists and forearms. He grit his teeth to hold back a grunt of pain, not wanting Yosuke to mistake his discomfort for pleasure and do it again. Yosuke had his moments in bed, care of an absolutely sinful tongue and seemingly inexhaustible stamina born from sheer stubbornness, but he also had plenty of awkward and embarrassing incidents to his name by now. They both did, honestly. So getting his wrists crushed under some miscalculated weight was pretty much par for the course for them, and he did his best to ignore it, if only because he really didn’t want Yosuke to stop when they were just getting started.

They kissed feverishly as Yosuke worked at getting Souji’s clothes off. His arms were left free during this time, but whenever Souji moved to help him along or touch him or return the favour in any way, Yosuke smacked his hands back impatiently. He was quickly stripped of his shirt and then rolled over onto his front, hands pinned down again near his head and Yosuke’s weight a solid presence on his back. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as Yosuke’s lips brushed the area lightly, and he bit down on his pillow to keep quiet, knowing Nanako was asleep just across the hall. Oh, how he wanted to make even just a little noise, to let Yosuke know how much he appreciated this. No fighting, no arguing, no doubting – just Yosuke like he used to be, mischievous and amorous and—

Souji gasped aloud as Yosuke firmly rolled his hips, grinding his still-clothed erection against his ass, and Souji’s into the mattress beneath them. He squirmed and panted into his pillow as Yosuke chuckled and repeated the motion, agonizingly slowly and teasingly. Souji tended not to initiate sex, but typically it didn’t take much to entice him into it. A mouth at the nape of his neck, a thigh slipped between his own, breath and tongue on the shell of his ear a delightful insinuation of what _else_ they could get up to – Yosuke knew them all, could hit them all effortlessly until Souji was either begging for it or struggling mightily to concentrate on whatever activity he’d chosen over sex. By the time he coyly tugged down on the waistband of Souji’s pyjama pants with a breathy, filthy promise in his ear of exactly what and _who_ was to come, Souji’s compliance was a foregone conclusion. Yosuke’s hot mouth slid along the curve of his neck and shoulder, teeth set gently against the skin, his free hand snaked its way underneath him to almost, almost touch –

But before he could register what was happening, the biting on his neck and shoulder went ten exits past _gentle_ and careened straight into _agonizing_. Souji yelped, and the pain stopped just as quickly in reponse. “Careful…” he groaned, not relaxing again until Yosuke kissed the newly-tender area apologetically.

“Sorry, partner…” Yosuke breathed next to his ear. “Thought you liked it rough.”

He turned his head on its side. In his limited range of vision, all he could see was his own hand next to him on the bed, and Yosuke’s clamped on top of it, holding him down. Even as he watched, the muscles in Yosuke’s hand flexed as his grip tightened further, and that tight coil of lust in Souji’s belly unfurled just enough to let it give a quick, unpleasant little flip.

“Maybe we’ll go a little easier tonight,” Souji suggested, making sure to keep his tone light-hearted. He wasn’t sure why yet – his thinking was still unclear, clouded with want – but something inside him knew he needed to regain some control, and quickly. It was an effort to do so in his current position, but he raised his head and craned his neck toward Yosuke, coming within an inch of capturing his lips, and grinned. “Want me to suck you off?”

Souji couldn’t gauge right away what kind of reaction that flirty suggestion had generated. Yosuke fisted his hand tightly in Souji’s hair and crushed their mouths together roughly, and it was _good_ at first. His throat ached from straining around, but that was as good at the hard pull of hair at his scalp and the dig of Yosuke’s nails in the skin of his wrist, and he couldn’t help but moan into Yosuke’s mouth.

It wasn’t until he tried to turn away and _couldn’t_ that something changed.

The strain on his neck made it suddenly hard to breathe, and as if some switch had simply flipped inside him, Souji began to panic. His eyes shot open, his fingers clenched around fistfuls of sheets. He noticed for the first time the way Yosuke was either very careless or very deliberate with his teeth, knocking them against Souji’s, biting into his lower lip and tongue. The hand in his hair and the crushing one on his wrist were all pain now, no pleasure. Everything that had been arousing only moments ago now terrified him because _what if Yosuke didn’t stop_? Stop, stop – he had to free his mouth and tell him to stop, because if he didn’t say it then Yosuke wouldn’t know –

Souji bit down hard on Yosuke’s tongue. It was enough. Yosuke yelped and pulled back, and though the grip on his hair tightened punishingly, the trick gave Souji enough space to gasp out, “ _Stop_.”

Stillness and silence followed his command, and a weird sort of relief overcame him. Yosuke had listened, which meant that he was still _himself_. He hadn’t meant to hurt Souji after all – they’d just let things get out of hand. Frightening, but no harm done.

Then Yosuke shoved his head forward into his pillow, and held it there.

Souji didn’t even have time to think. He fought back instinctively, trying to buck Yosuke off his back and thrashing his free arm wildly. His elbow caught Yosuke in the ribs, and the impact upset his balance enough for Souji to roll out from under him.

“ _Fuck,_ Yosuke!” he panted. “What the hell is _wrong_ with you?!”

Yosuke sat frozen at the other end of the bed, his hands raised in what looked like a partly-placating, partly-defensive gesture, a wide-eyed look of mixed hesitation and _confusion_ all over his face. Souji could scarcely believe it: Yosuke seemed for all the world to be as shocked by what he’d done as he was. “I – did I— was I hurting you?”

It was Souji’s turn to sit and stare like a gaping fish.

“Oh god, Souji –“

“You don’t _remember?_ ”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—!”

Yosuke reached forward to touch him, and Souji recoiled with an angry scoff. He readjusted his clothes, pulled his shirt back on, and got out of bed. “I’ve had enough of this,” he declared.

“Souji…?”

“You can’t stay here with Nanako. You have to leave.”

“Souji, you can’t think – I would never –!”

“You’re not _yourself_ , Yosuke!” Despite his rage, Souji’s voice cracked at the end of the sentence, betraying the fear and frustration beneath it. Apparently, he’d been wrong. Even when Yosuke was afraid of what he might do, that didn’t prove that he was still himself at all. “I can’t trust you anymore! I hate it, but I _can’t_. I don’t care if you hurt me, but as long as I’m responsible for Nanako, I have to protect her.”

“No, partner, _please_ …”

Souji gathered up his pillow and one of the blankets from the bed. “Sleep here tonight,” he said, “and then go stay with your parents for a few days. You can come back after Nanako’s gone. I’m moving her to Iwatodai on Thursday, and you’re coming with us. I’m taking you to see Amada.”

He didn’t wait for Yosuke to consent or object. He left him in the bedroom and shut the door behind himself, and then set up a makeshift bed on the couch, where he set his watch alarm earlier than he knew Nanako would be awake.

Somehow, the idea of her finding them sleeping in separate beds was much more difficult to handle than actually doing it.


	5. Chapter 5

_April 6th, 2022_

  
Yosuke sat in the bath with his legs drawn up to his chest until his fingertips wrinkled and the water turned lukewarm. The steam had helped clear his mind a little at first, but now that the water was rapidly cooling, all of his skin exposed to the air crawled with gooseflesh. Not at all like the hot springs at Yukiko’s place, where the water stayed piping hot and turned his skin red, and the steam curled comfortably around him and into the sky ( _where he’d grasped Souji’s hand under the water and kissed him to communicate the love and support that he couldn’t put into words, and god, that felt like a_ lifetime _ago_ ). He knew he might get sick if he sat there shivering much longer, but he couldn’t bring himself to get out just yet.

As long as he was in here, the world out there would just have to wait.

He had decided – been _forced_ to decide, really, he hadn’t even had a choice – to disappear to Okina for a couple of days instead of inconveniencing his parents. All right, so that was a dirty lie. He really just dreaded the sympathetic looks and invasive questions he knew they’d bombard him with if they caught on that he and Souji weren’t getting along so well. They’d raised such a stink when he’d broken the news of their relationship, and though they’d grown to accept Souji’s presence in their lives over the years, they’d probably think the whole thing was a pointless waste of time and worry if it didn’t work out. Or worse, they would point to their problems as proof that he and Souji shouldn’t have been fooling around in the first place. Of _course_ it didn’t work out, really, what did they _expect_ –

So, contrary to Souji’s demands, going to stay with his parents was completely out of the question. Intruding on one of his friends wasn’t the most appealing of ideas either. All of them seemed to sense that something wasn’t right between him and Souji, but for the most part, they were polite enough not to intrude. Chie knew, of course, since he had crashed on her couch after their first serious fight. Chie was his closest friend after Souji, and he talked about their situation most openly with her out of everyone, but how many times could he expect her to put up with him showing up at her door asking for help? Besides that, she worked long hours at the police station and ran a martial arts class in her limited spare time. She had her own stuff to deal with. She didn’t need to baby him on top of all that.

Then there was Yukiko. He thought she looked at them a little more sympathetically these days and asked a lot more general questions about how they were doing, and though he suspected Chie might have mentioned something to her, he could never be sure because Yukiko never outright asked about it. Did she know, or didn’t she? Yosuke didn’t want to err on the side of “didn’t”, if it meant having to explain why he was looking for shelter. He might be able to do that on his better days, but not immediately after being banished from Souji’s sight.

 _Honestly,_ Yosuke thought, _what’s_ wrong _with him? How is this making anything better?_

Kanji knew, but then again, there was pretty much no way he _couldn’t_ have known. He’d practically had to break them up once, when an argument had gotten a little too heated. He could probably hear them shouting from next door sometimes anyway. Running away to his house had been ruled out simply because Yosuke needed to be away from Souji right now, and being able to wave at him through the kitchen window just wasn’t far enough. Kanji was probably the one who told Naoto, who no doubt had the information filed away in that giant brain of hers, but otherwise remained absolutely silent about it. Not like Yosuke could afford to escape to her place in the city even if he’d wanted to anyway, not when he still had to go to work. He wasn’t sure who told Rise, but clearly somebody had, since she’d sent him a stream of texts filled with the kind of relationship advice that made his ears turn pink. As least she meant well, even if he ended up having to delete the messages in case someone at work ever picked up his phone.

He was pretty sure Teddie was the only one who had no idea. There were only two things that could happen as a result of him finding out, and Yosuke didn’t want either of those things to happen: he’d either start cooking up ridiculous and troublesome scenarios to help them patch things up, or he’d be utterly heartbroken. Or both. The less he knew about it, Yosuke decided, the better for everyone involved.

His friends were important to him, and as humiliating as it was, in a way he was glad that they knew. He felt like if shit ever really did hit the fan with Souji, then they wouldn’t just take his side automatically – they were Yosuke’s friends, too, and they’d do their best to support them both. They might know they were having issues, but what they definitely didn’t know yet was the source of those issues – that yes, things had been tense ever since Yosuke had lost Susano-O, but this loss had merely set the stage for something much worse. It was shameful enough that he was the only one in their group who no longer had a functioning Persona, and like his parents, he just couldn’t stand them knowing it was poisoning his relationship with Souji, too…

He smacked his forehead down against his knees and gave his hair a rough, frustrated tug for a second. Dammit. Now he was doing it, too. It was an effort to remind himself that their fighting was as much Souji’s fault as his, for acting like Yosuke was now something broken that needed to be fixed, something helpless that needed to be rescued. Their collapse was a mutual failure, and he _knew_ that, but at some point, he’d started to internalize Souji’s interpretation of things: that the source of their problems was _Yosuke_. If only he’d never lost Susano-O. If only he could stay calm, if only he could stay in control of himself, if only he knew what his Shadow wanted, _if anything_ …

It wasn’t fair. And day by day, he was growing to resent Souji because of it.

And Souji…

 _I can’t trust you anymore._

Yosuke grimaced like he’d been physically struck, and covered his face with his hands. How could Souji have said that? Even now, two days later, the memory made him want to roll up into a ball and die. Whatever else they felt or didn’t feel for each other anymore, they were friends first and foremost, and Yosuke couldn’t stand not to have Souji’s trust. Souji probably knew that. He wasn’t careless with words. Whether he was boosting someone up or tearing them down, he always knew just what to say.

His phone rang, a short burst of music in the pocket of the jeans he had carelessly deposited on the floor by the tub. His favourite song by his favourite band. Souji’s ringtone. He didn’t feel like answering, but his phone was practically an extension of his hand and it was rare for him to ever let anything go through to voicemail. Souji would know he was avoiding him.

“Hey,” said Yosuke evenly when he answered. He was careful not to sound too angry, but also not too passive or repentant either. He didn’t want to start another quarrel, but he wasn’t about to let Souji think they were okay this time, either.

“Hey,” said Souji, in what sounded to his ears like much the same tone. “How are you?”

“Um… fine, I guess,” is what Yosuke replied, instead of what he _wanted_ to say, which included a lengthy diatribe on the injustice of being banned from his own home. “I mean, nothing disastrous has happened yet, so…”

“That’s good. How are your parents?”

“My pa- oh, they’re… yeah, they’re good. Why?”

“Because I called their place looking for you and they seemed pretty surprised that you were supposed to be there. Where are you really?”

Yosuke scowled, in no mood at all to be scolded. “Okina. I’m staying in a hotel.”

“That’s… a bit of a commute for work.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Can I ask why?”

“I didn’t want to put my parents in danger.” It might have been a lie, but only half a lie, so it was probably okay. The danger part was true, anyway. Lying by omission, he supposed. “If you’re worried about me hurting Nanako, then shipping me off to someone else I can hurt instead doesn’t make any sense.”

Souji sighed heavily on the other end of the line. Yosuke thought he sighed a lot, these days. “Look, Yosuke, I’m – I’m sorry. I don’t honestly think that you _meant_ to…”

“…Is this what you called for? A half-assed apology?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re right. I didn’t _mean_ to. But somehow I get the feeling even that’s not enough for you.”

“You—“ Souji cut himself off, and Yosuke heard a scuffle on his end before he started speaking again in a hushed tone. Nanako must have been home, he realized. “You tried to _kill me_ , Yosuke. I didn’t know what else to do. What’s stopping you from doing the same thing to Nanako, or – or trying it again while I’m asleep?”

“Souji, you don’t think I’d –“

“Apparently it’s not up to you, Yosuke. You have to understand why I’m nervous. I don’t know how to deal with something that just keeps happening out of nowhere…”

 _Not out of nowhere_ , thought Yosuke grimly. If he thought about it, there was a common thread to all of his violent outbursts – he was just too afraid to say it, or to ask himself what it meant. In each case, it was never his parents or his friends or his coworkers or strangers on the street that sent him into a rage. In each case, without exception, it was Souji’s face, Souji’s words, Souji, Souji, _Souji_ that pushed him into that state. He was absolutely certain that he was telling the truth when he claimed that he would never hurt Nanako. She would never be in danger when she was with him – just as long as Souji wasn’t there with him, too.

“Anyway…” mumbled Souji, “I’m calling to tell you that the train leaves at ten tomorrow morning. Since you’re staying in Okina anyway, you can meet up with us when we pass through there tomorrow. Nanako-chan… still doesn’t know what happened, so let’s try to put this aside for her sake.”

Yosuke wanted to snipe back that a text message would have sufficed – at least until he realized that yes, a text message _would_ have sufficed, and yet Souji had risked incurring his wrath by calling him anyway. At least he was trying, for what that was worth anymore. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Amada-kun’s agreed to help us, so you should make sure you’re prepared for whatever’s going to happen.”

“I still don’t know about this, man. Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

“Not in the slightest. But I think we’re out of options.”

“Maybe…”

“Goodnight, Yosuke. Get some sleep.”

“Yeah. Night.”

Yosuke snapped his phone shut and tossed it over the side of the tub and into his pile of clothes, not really caring where it landed. The water was freezing. He was freezing, and he couldn’t warm up, no matter how deep he sank into the bath. He finally gave up, and his body felt impossibly heavy as he dragged himself out of the water, dried off with a stiff, coarse hotel towel, and stumbled into bed. The blackout curtains plunged his room into a foreign, lonely darkness, admitting none of the ambient light like the kind that crept into his room at home. He missed that already. He missed the familiar weight on the other side of the mattress, the sound of steady breathing in sleep, the girlish voice chatting on the phone in the next room, the warm presence in the back of his mind – and yet he didn’t. He missed the way things used to be, but it was hard to miss the constant tension and anger and hurt. Being on his own was, in some ways, much easier.

He was so much more himself when he wasn’t with Souji.

 

 

*** __

 _April 7th, 2022_

  
When the train to Iwatodai made its stop in Okina, Yosuke boarded and searched the cars until he spotted Nanako, who waved him over ecstatically, and Souji, who offered him a rather false smile. He looked kind of terrible, Yosuke noticed as he approached their seats – his eyes were dark and heavy-lidded and he clearly hadn’t shaven in a few days. The sight startled him a little. Souji was always careful to project the image that he was in control of things, even when he wasn’t. It was nothing Yosuke personally hadn’t seen before, having known him for more than a decade now, but it was also rare for him to display any outward signs of stress in public. Souji sat by the window and Nanako sat opposite him, leaving the seats next to each of them open, but the difficulty he had looking at Souji right now coupled with the desire not to alert Nanako that something was wrong made the choice for him.

“Hey, Yosuke-nii,” Nanako greeted him with a smile as he took the seat next to Souji. “Glad you made it. How was your business trip?”

He resisted the urge to glance at Souji for clarification. Obviously he’d had to make up some kind of excuse to cover for Yosuke’s absence, and admittedly, _Yosuke-nii had a meeting in Okina_ probably went down a lot easier than _Yosuke-nii can’t come home until he promises not to murder us while we sleep_. If the thought sounded flippant even to his own mind, then it was all he could do to keep a lid on the swell of guilt he felt rearing up inside him. _God – this is so fucked up._ “Boring,” said Yosuke, forcing himself to grin back at her. “Couldn’t wait to get away with you guys for the weekend. You didn’t forget anything, did you?”

“I hope not. Can’t you mail it to me if I did?”

“I’d think really hard about it.”

He did his best to keep his own spirits up during the trip, an effort made easier by the fact that Nanako’s eagerness to follow this new path in her life was at least a little contagious. Souji was quieter than usual. By the time the friendly voice on the PA system announced their arrival in Iwatodai, when he finally worked up the nerve to turn and look at Souji fully instead of just stealing quick glances, he was relaxed enough to reach over and lightly touch his knee. Souji turned his attention toward him, away from the city outside his window, and covered Yosuke’s hand with his own after a moment’s hesitation. They sat in silent apology like that until the train came to a stop and Nanako practically shoved their bags at them in her haste to get out into the city.

 

 

***

At the end of the day, after they’d taken Nanako’s things to her new room in the university dorms, they paid a visit to her boyfriend elsewhere in the city – the other half of Yosuke’s reason for tagging along. Ken Amada lived in a cramped high-rise apartment in Iwatodai with a very old, but still quite handsome shiba-inu that pooled himself protectively on the floor at his feet when he saw Souji and Yosuke for the first time. They came closer when Amada invited them to sit, and as Yosuke sat a little too closely on the end of the sofa opposite Amada, the dog leapt to his feet and growled deep in his chest.

“It’s okay, Koro-chan, they’re friends,” said Amada lightly, leaning down to pat his flank, and the dog looked up almost quizzically in the direction of his voice. “You remember Nanako, don’t you?”

Nanako stooped to let the dog sniff her outstretched hand, and gave him a friendly pat. When she stood again, Amada beamed with a smile that lit up his entire face, and he greeted her with a quick hug. Yosuke felt a brief pang at the sight. He knew Nanako was smitten with Amada in the way that only teenagers could be, but he’d never really seen him return the sentiment so openly before now. He suddenly thought of Souji’s fake, distant smile on the train, and wondered when they’d stopped looking at each other like that.

“Sorry to drop in so late,” Souji apologized. He knelt on the floor by the dog and followed Nanako’s example, allowing him to sniff his hand and examine the new and no doubt exciting scents he’d carried in from outside. Souji was definitely a cat person, Yosuke thought – they carried themselves in exactly that same quiet, serious, secretly-clumsy way – but he liked dogs well enough too, and this dog’s earnest tail wagging suggested the feeling was mutual.

“Not at all,” said Amada. “I’m glad you called – it’s good to see you again. Though it’d be nice if it were under better circumstances. It sounds like your situation is getting worse, Hanamura-san.”

“What situation?” asked Nanako, before Yosuke could respond. “Did something happen?”

“It’s been more than a year since Yosuke lost his Persona,” Souji explained to both of them, “and we haven’t really made any progress on why it’s gone, or how to get it back. It was mostly okay for a while – it was hard, but we were dealing with it. But lately, he’s been…”

“It’s my Shadow,” said Yosuke, interrupting him before Souji could say something he didn’t want spoken out loud. “At least, I think it is.”

“It’s still giving you problems?” Amada asked, frowning.

“Yeah, I guess,” Yosuke said with a shrug. “When you have a Persona, it’s a lot easier to accept your Shadow – y’know, keep it under control and stuff. But Susano-O’s still not coming back. I think… it’s getting harder to keep it balanced, since there’s nothing in there to balance it _with_ anymore. ”

“Yosuke hasn’t been himself, lately,” Souji added, and Yosuke fixed him with a glare that could have made _Kanji_ second-guess what he was about to say, but nonetheless seemed to have little effect. “The last time we spoke with you about it, we weren’t really sure what would happen as a result of him losing his Persona. But since then he’s gotten a lot more aggressive, even violent sometimes. Towards me, mostly, but he doesn’t usually remember doing it.”

Nananko was looking at him now, worriedly, like he’d just told her he was dying. It was exactly the look he didn’t want to get from his parents and friends. Dammit – he wasn’t _damaged_. “Souji…” Yosuke warned, but to his annoyance, Souji ignored him.

“We need to get to the bottom of his before he hurts someone, or himself. Any help you can give us…”

Amada blew out a breath when Souji finished speaking, eyebrows raised thoughtfully. “There’s still a lot I don’t understand about Personas and Shadows myself. Hanamura-san, are you sure your Persona is entirely gone? Is it possible it’s still inside you?"

Yosuke shrugged again. “Your guess is as good as mine. No idea if he’s really gone for good or just in hiding. I can’t get into the TV anymore, so I assumed that kind of sealed it. If he’s in there, he’s not answering me.”

“Have you ever heard of anything like that?” Souji asked.

Amada folded his hands in his lap, threading and unthreading his fingers as he mulled it over. “Not exactly. Sometimes though… from time to time, for whatever reason, people can lose control of their Personas. They’ll lash out, do things you don’t want them to do. But,” he added hastily, “I’ve never heard of that affecting the behaviour of the hosts. It’s always been a case of the Persona itself manifesting and acting separately from the person. And I’m pretty sure memory loss wasn’t a factor…”

“Maybe it’s related,” Souji suggested. “Maybe it’s his Shadow that’s out of control, instead of his Persona. Could it be stopped, if that were the case?”

“Not in any way you’d actually want,” said Amada, his mouth set in a firm frown. “I’ve known people who’ve willingly suppressed their Personas with drugs to keep them under control, but… even if it worked on his Shadow, taking the drugs is eventually fatal. So don’t even ask.”

Yosuke fixed his eyes on the dog, who was lying on the floor across Nanako’s feet, the only thing he could safely stare at while his mind wandered without looking like he wasn’t paying attention. He wanted to ask about it – was _desperate_ to ask, really – but he didn’t want to listen to the flurry of angry protests that would arise in response to his question: _how long is “eventually”?_ He wondered, somewhat morbidly, how much time he’d need to be given to make a normal life with Souji worth a death sentence. A year? Five? Ten? He didn’t think he could do it, even if he found a way, but that didn’t stop him from wondering.

How much would he be willing to sacrifice just for the chance to be himself again?

When he tuned back in to the conversation, Amada was speaking again. “…But I’ve never seen it just _happen_ before. Can you think of anything that might have triggered your Persona’s disappearance, Hanamura-san? Maybe killing your Shadow had something to do with it?”

“Do you think that might have done some lasting damage?” Yosuke asked.

“We were kind of going by the seat of our pants, there,” admitted Amada. “You forcefully expelled a vital piece of yourself from your mind. Maybe you weren’t – you know, put back together the right way…”

But Yosuke shook his head firmly. “No. Susano-O definitely came back when my Shadow did. He didn’t disappear for at least another month until all that was over.”

“So I guess we can rule out that little adventure…”

“Amada-kun,” Souji interrupted, “I think our Personas work a bit differently than yours. Ours hinge on the acceptance of our Shadows, and of ourselves – we can’t use our Personas without having that acceptance first. So it’s likely that Yosuke’s Persona disappeared because his Shadow is still trying to tell him something.”

“I keep telling you, partner, that’s not what it is…”

“…But apparently that’s not what it is. So we’re looking into alternative explanations.”

“And that’s why you needed to come see me,” Amada guessed. “You want to use my Evoker.”

Souji nodded. “I think we should go right to the source of the problem, while we still can.”

“Big bro,” said Nanako, “do you think that’s a good idea? Is it okay for you to call your Persona outside the TV?”

“Yeah,” Yosuke agreed. “It sounds nice and easy, but even if it works, what happens when I put that freaky gun to my head and blow out my Shadow instead of my Persona? If Susano-O’s not _in_ there anymore, then that’s probably what’s going to happen.”

“Like I said,” said Souji, “we’re going to the source of the problem. If your Shadow comes out, we’ll find out what it wants. If it doesn’t, there’s a chance Susano-O’s still in there somewhere. Either way, we’ll learn something that might help us figure out what to do next.”

It wasn’t actually a half-bad plan, Yosuke had to concede. He just wished he didn’t have to argue it in front of Amada and Nanako. Souji sure did like to make important decisions for him, didn’t he?

“Fine, partner,” he said. “We’ll try it your way. Just don’t blame me if something bad happens. Your idea.”

“Hey, Koro-chan,” said Amada, and the dog’s ears perked up at the sound of his name. “You wanna go for a walk?”

 

***

Later that night, with the full moon hanging huge and yellow overhead, the four of them walked with Koromaru to a quiet part of the city where a small shrine and an adjacent playground sat perched on a hill at the top of a long, wide set of stairs. Koromaru barked and hurried ahead as fast as his tiny old legs could carry him, and Nanako called out after him as she followed up the steps.

“We really appreciate your help with this,” said Souji, falling into step with Amada in Nanako’s absence. “There’s still so much we don’t understand about how this power works. It’s good to have someone else’s thoughts on it.”

“I wish I had more answers,” Amada admitted. He carried a small silver briefcase in one hand that had drawn Yosuke’s gaze ever since he’d learned what was inside it, but so far it had remained unopened. “I really don’t have much more of an understanding of it than you do. Just a different perspective, I guess. Like you said, our Personas seem to work differently.” He hummed softly. “Seta-san… How many do you have, anyway?”

“Me? A lot. Why?”

“Just curious. The ones I saw when we fought Hanamura-san’s Shadow that time weren’t ones I recognized, so I was just wondering…”

“Hey, didn’t Nanako-chan mention that there was someone else who could summon a bunch of Personas?” Yosuke asked. He really hated being out of the loop on these things, and anything that helped him understand Souji and his odd variation on their power a little better was typically of interest to him. “What’s up with that?”

“It seems to be a rare ability,” Amada answered neutrally. “But you’re right. It’s not unique to Seta-san.”

“So there are others, huh? I wonder why…?”

“Other,” Amada corrected him. “It’s possible there could be more… but I knew just the one.”

“What happened to him?” asked Souji.

Amada kept his head down, his eyes fixed determinedly on the stairs as they climbed.

“Her,” he corrected him quietly. “She died.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

Amada smiled. “Please don’t be. It was her decision, and she faced it head-on – it was really brave of her. I’ll always respect her for that.” He looked at Souji. “This is probably the part where I’m supposed to say that you remind me of her, but you really don’t. Apart from having more than one Persona, you’re nothing alike.”

“Sorry if I’m crossing a line here, but – obviously I’m in a position to be really curious about this,” said Yosuke. “I’ve always wondered this about Souji, too. How come she had more than one Persona?”

“Chance, mostly,” said Amada. “She’d been carrying a kind of powerful Shadow inside her that allowed her to access multiple Personas. Kind of a long story…”

Yosuke looked back. Souji had stopped mid-step on the stairs, a look of shock fixed on his face.

“A Shadow?” he echoed. “Does that mean I...?”

“That’s one of the questions _I_ had for _you_ , Seta-san,” said Amada.

“Yeah,” Yosuke agreed. “Me too, partner. I mean, you know how all of us got our Personas, but I’ve always kinda wondered how you got yours. Your Shadow never came out until years after the fact, so… where’d it come from? Where’d _all_ of them come from, for that matter?”

“Yeah,” said Souji, frowning deeply as he continued to climb. “Yeah, I… guess I don’t really know…”

Nanako was climbing on the jungle gym and Koromaru sat nearby digging furiously in the sand when they caught up to them. Yosuke surveyed the playground and the shrine quickly, and was satisfied at the abundance of space available – just in case things went sour.

“All right,” said Amada, as he set the briefcase down on a bench and popped it open. He withdrew its contents – a small silver gun, engraved on the barrel with writing Yosuke couldn’t read from this distance and the poor lighting. “Since we’re less sure what’s going to happen when Hanamura-san tries this, and neither of you have ever summoned your Personas in the real world before – Seta-san, why don’t you give it a try first?”

Amada handed him the Evoker. Souji stared at it in his hand like he had no idea how it got there.

“Just concentrate,” Amada advised him. “It’s probably very similar to the usual way you summon. Just… slightly more violent.”

It was surreal to watch Souji put a gun to his temple, Yosuke thought. His whole body was tense as he looked on, and he had to fight down the instinctive urge to dash forward and smack the weapon out of his hand. Souji closed his eyes serenely and widened his stance in preparation, taking long, deep breaths to steady himself. Yosuke was halfway to announcing that this was a stupid idea and Souji really didn’t need to be a guinea pig just for him, and then there was no time.

Souji pulled the trigger. The cacophony of a gunshot and shattering glass rebounded loudly off the shrine, and Souji staggered sideways as if he really had been shot. Nanako shouted; startled, Yosuke jumped forward, but only got one foot out in front of him before he saw Souji recover and Izanagi appear above him in a flash of blue light.

“It worked!” said Nanako, now perched on the horizontal bar with Koromaru standing guard under her dangling feet. “Kind of scary, but it worked…”

Souji didn’t say anything. He was gazing up at Izanagi with an unreadable expression on his face, and Izanagi in turn was staring unflinchingly at Souji.

“All right,” said Amada, as Izanagi disappeared and Souji passed Yosuke the gun like it was burning his hand. “Your turn, Hanamura-san. Remember to concentrate. If you hesitate, it won’t come out. You can do it.”

Slowly, Yosuke pressed the Evoker to the soft spot under his chin, feeling utterly crazy not for the first time in his life. His throat worked hard when he swallowed thickly. Geez, this thing was heavy. He’d never held a real gun before, but he wondered if it really felt like this. His palm was hyper-aware of the heft of it, the rough leather grip, the resistance of the trigger as his finger rested lightly against it. The metal barrel was cold against his skin, unyielding as he held it in place. His heart began to pound. He felt like this could have been a nightmare, like he was about to blow his brains out in front of Souji and Nanako on this creepy goddamn playground, only when he fired the gun he’d feel the bullet burst through skin and shatter bone, and maybe, if he was lucky, he’d wake up before—

“Yosuke,” Souji urged him quietly, and Yosuke took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut tight, and pulled the trigger.

Like during Souji’s test, the sound was what startled him most – what sounded like a cannon firing from just a short distance was deafening when put next to his head. Why hadn’t he been expecting it to be so loud? It physically repelled him, forced his eyes open as he recoiled instinctively from it. The world was spinning. The same blue light that had engulfed Souji was all around him, and when he recovered from his stagger, his eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat as he saw the blur of blue and red that he knew, at long last, was his Persona.

It was him. Yosuke felt like crying out of sheer relief, and instead laughed a stupid, shaky, hiccupping laugh that he couldn’t control. He was there. Susano-O was still there inside him – deeply buried maybe, but definitely there. The threat of his Shadow felt a million years away as Yosuke basked in his Persona’s presence, taking strength from him, and after an entire year of torture and misery, Yosuke had never felt more whole, like his heart would simply burst for being complete.

“Yosuke-nii, you did it!” Nanako cheered.

“Y-yeah…” Yosuke breathed, grinning stupidly, unable to tear his eyes away from his other self. He felt like if he looked away for even an instant, he would vanish again, or this whole thing would be a dream, or—

Souji was beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Yosuke flashed him a smile that he felt hadn’t lit up his face in forever, a smile that Souji returned cautiously, almost shyly. It was okay. _They_ were okay. As long as he had his other self, then he could be Souji’s other half. Susano-O was really _theirs_ , after all, a strong and enduring symbol of their relationship and undeniable proof of their bond. He could fix things now, he could make it up, they could start over or pick up where they’d stumbled when this whole mess had started – anything, he could do anything at all –

“Dunno what this means,” said Yosuke, still smiling, “but it’s gotta be a good thing, right?”

“I think so,” said Souji. “It’s… probably not a good sign that you had to force it out like this. But at least we have a starting point, now…”

Souji pulled him into a hug – he didn’t see the way his words made Yosuke’s smile falter and eventually fall. Seriously? That’s what he had to say about this incredible turn of events? Maybe he was just overly excited because it was his own Persona he was seeing and feeling after a year of stark absence, but was Souji simply incapable of enjoying a happy moment? A moment of _Yosuke_ being happy? Even now, was it still his fault because he hadn’t recovered his Persona in the “right” way?

Yosuke’s fingers clenched into tight fists around Souji’s coat. Why had he expected anything different?

“Yosuke…” Souji warned.

He was staring at Susano-O, so Yosuke did, too. The spinning disc that encircled his Persona was wobbling and tilting off its axis, and as it stopped spinning, Susano-O dropped out of the air and fell down on all fours. He grasped his head in his hands and thrashed as his body distorted itself – Yosuke spasmed and dropped the Evoker, fell to his knees and mirrored the posture, screaming in agony. Something was tearing him apart from inside. Oily black arms burst out of – _his? Susano-O’s?_ \-- body, embracing him, stretching and reaching and rooting him to the ground, tearing through his joints until they could burst out of his arms and legs. Yosuke couldn’t tell which one was really _him_ anymore, which one was really being ripped apart, they were the same person and the pain was so great –

Distantly, he heard Amada shout, “Seta-san! My Evoker!”

Between wild flares of pain, Yosuke was aware of Souji snatching the discarded Evoker from the ground and tossing it to Amada, who put it to his own head without hesitation and summoned his Persona. He thought he heard Koromaru howling, but the sound was drowned out by yet another deafening crash of glass. The tearing pain in his entire body dulled to an ache, and Yosuke slumped forward, limbs weak with relief, his face avoiding contact with the ground only by virtue of the fact that Souji was quick enough to catch him at the last second.

He groaned, and forced his eyes open. Before them, Susano-O was almost unrecognizable – his spinning disc was an inert circle on the ground, dozens of shadow arms reached around him and upward into the night from his blackened, deformed body. A sickly yellow glow lit up his face, reflected back on him from behind his glasses. He threw back his head and wailed, a horrible shadow cry, a sound like no human or animal had ever made that struck terror into Yosuke’s heart, and as the world went fuzzy and black around the edge of his vision, the Personas descended upon him to do battle. __

 

 _***_

 _April 8th, 2022_

 

He woke up not knowing where he was, confusion building to a slow panic as he struggled ineffectually to disentangle himself from unfamiliar bedding and arms that prevented his escape. His squirming and confused, half-asleep mumbling alerted Souji, who clutched him tighter from behind and shushed him.

“Nanako-chan’s asleep on the couch,” Souji whispered. “You’ll wake her.”

Yosuke breathed quickly and deeply and lay absolutely still, giving himself time to come to grips with where he was and what had happened. It was still dark – they were in a small futon on the floor in what he realized after a moment was Amada’s living room. The table sat between them and the couch, but when he lifted his head he could see Nanako’s hair peeking out from under a blanket as she lay there asleep.

He lay back down and buried his face into his pillow. He didn’t need to ask if it had all been a dream.

“Are you okay?” Souji asked, almost inaudibly.

Yosuke nodded, not trusting himself to even open his mouth, much less speak.

“Amada-kun and Koro-chan protected all of us. You didn’t wake up after it was over… I didn’t know what to do. So we brought you back here…”

“That thing…” Yosuke croaked.

“It’s all right…”

“All this time…”

He felt Souji’s forehead press against the back of his neck as he squeezed him tightly. Far from loving, the gesture felt cloying and close, and Yosuke felt sick to his stomach, along with a powerful desire to escape. He really was the problem, and now Souji knew it. His Shadow was out of control – it was consuming him. And soon – if he didn’t figure out what to do –

“We’ll figure it out,” Souji breathed, tickling the hair on the back of his neck. “You can’t live like this… We’ll fix it somehow, I promise…”

Yosuke shut his eyes tight. “Stop it. Stop promising. Stop trying to _fix it_ , Souji, _please_ –“

“Yosuke...?”

He struggled out of Souji’s arms and went to the bathroom, not turning the light on until he shut the door behind him. He knelt by the toilet, just in case, but despite feeling like he had a stomach full of acid, he couldn’t quite find the strength to throw up.

How could Souji not have seen it? Susano-O was Yosuke’s Persona, but he was special to both of them. Jiraiya has been his and his alone, but Susano-O was the creation of two. Didn’t Souji understand? Couldn’t he see what was happening, feel it as sharply and painfully as he could?

His Persona, the strong, invincible version of himself, the side of himself that Souji had helped him understand, the symbol of their bond – it was now something else entirely, destroyed by the parts of himself he still wanted to ignore and discard. But even as ravaged as it was, it was still a symbol, and he knew what it meant. He knew exactly what they had seen tonight: the manifestation of a relationship that was now as rotten, toxic, and diseased as it was unbreakable.

Souji knocked softly on the door. Yosuke told him not to come in. There was no lock, but Souji wouldn’t have known that – he didn’t even try to open it.


	6. Chapter 6

Though they’d planned to stay in the city with Nanako for the weekend, the result of Yosuke’s experiment with the Evoker eradicated any hope of a restful vacation. There was no suggestion that they try again the following night – Amada had fought Yosuke’s Shadow twice now, and clearly had no desire to do it again. Yosuke didn’t even want to give him the chance. Souji didn’t blame either of them. With Nanako settled in and what help Amada could offer them exhausted, they decided it best not to overstay their welcome, and they took the first train home the next morning.

“We have to tell the others what’s happening,” said Souji. “You have to come clean with them.”

Yosuke was leaning away from him, slumped bonelessly against the window, cheek resting on the palm of his hand. Aside from his stint of unconsciousness, he hadn’t slept a wink all night – which Souji knew, since he hadn’t either. When Souji spoke, he turned his head further away. “About us?” he mumbled into his hand.

“About your Shadow.”

Lying between them on the seat, Yosuke’s free hand twitched. “Didn’t you notice?” he said. “The Shadow _was_ us, Souji.”

A woman walked past their row as she headed into the next car, and a man crossed her path going in the opposite direction. Souji waited for them to pass before speaking, but lowered his voice anyway, just to be safe. “What do you mean?”

Yosuke still wouldn’t look at him, speaking instead to his reflection in the glass as he stuttered out several false starts. _It’s… We’re…_ he thought he heard him mumble, before he shook his head and finally turned to look at him with a face as tired as Souji felt. “I got angry at you, just before it happened. Susano-O didn’t change until that moment. He was fine – _we_ were fine – and then my Shadow—“ Yosuke’s hand on the seat between them clenched into a very tight fist. “Souji, every time we fight, _that’s_ what it’s doing to me. That’s what’s happening inside me.”

“But we weren’t even fighting this time…”

“I know,” said Yosuke, turning his face back to the window. “It’s getting worse.”

Souji stared hard at the countryside crawling past the train, instead of at Yosuke’s miserable reflection . This was… this was bad. Yosuke had to be suppressing incredible amounts of anger for it to be manifesting as a Shadow – and not just any Shadow, for that matter. Shadows and Personas were normally two sides of the same coin, not always perfectly balanced, but always still _there_ , even when the coin came up one side in favour of the other. For one to try and take over the other so completely was abnormal; for one to try and take over its own _host_ was flat-out horrifying. “You need to find out what your Shadow wants, Yosuke,” he said. “Fast. You’re running out of time.”

“I don’t know anymore. It feels so… big, y’know? Like it’s so close I can’t see the whole picture…”

Souji licked his lips nervously, unsure if he wanted to broach this topic right at that moment and spark another disaster. Yosuke being angry with him was a part of life he’d grown used to, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about the monstrous form Susano-O had taken last night, and his fear of that creature and what it was doing to Yosuke made him choose his words carefully. “Yosuke, are you sure – when you lost your Shadow before, I mean – are you sure you really accepted what it wanted?”

Yosuke’s shoulders tensed. Souji waited.

Even if it was just to please his parents, Yosuke’s Shadow – Yosuke _himself_ – had once wanted to leave him. They never talked much about it. There had been no reason to. His parents’ disapproval of their relationship had eventually eroded, and Yosuke had always insisted he’d come to terms with his other self, but Souji was left to wonder if he was telling the truth. He and Amada had defeated Yosuke’s Shadow for him; he hadn’t seen Yosuke accept it. Only one of those methods was proof that it had been put to rest, and given the overwhelming evidence that it was still active, Souji found Yosuke’s word on the matter harder and harder to trust.

In all probability, Yosuke’s Shadow still wanted the same thing it had back then. Just for different reasons, now.

“I accepted it,” Yosuke insisted tersely. “Like I told Amada, Susano-O came back after you saved me. Isn’t that enough proof that I did?”

“…Yeah. You’re right,” said Souji, and he let the matter drop even though he disagreed. He knew better than anyone that the acceptance of a Shadow was no guarantee it would never rear its ugly, yellow-eyed head again the moment that acceptance slipped.

Yosuke fell asleep against the window an hour outside Inaba, his hand still resting on the seat between them. Souji closed his eyes and imagined himself taking it, running his long fingers along Yosuke’s, feeling his way across his prominent veins and metacarpals and skin flecked with thin white battle scars – __

_”What are you doing?” Yosuke laughs, and Souji can feel it rumbling right through Yosuke’s back as they press close together, skin against skin in their now over-heated futon._

 _“Shh… Your hands are weird. I wanna feel them…”_

 _“My hands are not_ weird _. You’re weird. You weirdo.”_

 _“Oh wow, what is that?” Souji can’t see what he’s prodding over the curve of Yosuke’s bare shoulder, or with his curtain of soft brown hair tickling his face. He presses down experimentally on his discovery, some hard protrusion of bone between two knuckles. “Did you break a finger there or something?”_

 _“No… Never even noticed that before.” A pause, while Yosuke feels it out for himself. “Okay, fine, that’s kinda weird.”_

 _“Your fingertips are really hard. Smooth though. Wait – not so much that one. That one, though. And that one.”_

 _“Uhh, I play guitar, remember? That thing in the big clunky case holding the closet door shut?”_

 _“It’s coming back to me now.”_

 _“Man, you are so…” Yosuke trails off when Souji presses a kiss to the top of his spine, tongue darting out to taste salty skin. “So… mmm…”_

 _“I like your hands,” Souji murmurs against his neck, rubbing gentle circles on Yosuke’s palm with his thumb, mapping out the odd synchronicity of muscle and bone. “Hands say a lot about a person. They tell stories.”_

 _“…And mine say I’m weird.”_

 _“Weird. Interesting. Strong. Nothing I didn’t already know, I guess.”_

 _Yosuke laughs again, still infected with that same euphoric afterglow that makes his laughter so pleasing to Souji’s ears. “Smooth, partner, real smooth. Is this your idea of pillow talk or something?”_

 _“Not what you expected?”_

 _“I don’t know,” says Yosuke. He twists his wrist so he can grasp Souji’s hand in his own, and begins to explore it in the same careful, curious manner. “I could get used to it.”_

 

Souji woke just in time to hear the announcement of their stop, his hand resting next to Yosuke’s at a distance of inches that somehow felt like miles. __

_***_

 _April 11th, 2022_

  
Monday afternoon found Souji sitting alone at the kitchen table, nursing a cold mug of coffee and flipping through his journal, the record he kept of Yosuke’s behaviour over the last several months. He made detailed notes about the appearance of Yosuke’s Shadow in Iwatodai, as well as the terrifying event that had prompted them to go there, and now faced the daunting task of piecing together what it all meant.

He turned the pages, one after another, trying to think of any information he may have forgotten to add to the recent entries. They’d happened on Monday and Thursday, respectively, but Souji already knew there was no correlation between their arguments and the days of the week – except that the days on which they spent the most time together were more likely to provide opportunities for clashes. The sky had been clear that night in Iwatodai - he remembered the large yellow moon particularly well - but he couldn’t remember if the same was true for the incident before that… Damn it. If he couldn’t be accurate about this, then there was no point to it at all…

His phone buzzed on the table top, interrupting his thoughts. He checked the display out of habit before picking up. “Hey, Rise,” he answered warmly. “Back in Inaba yet?”

“Just last night, actually,” she chirped. “I wanted to stop in and say hi, but all the lights were off at your place and I didn’t want to… _interrupt_ anything.”

Souji laughed politely, and didn’t bother telling her that all she would have interrupted was a frosty silence as Yosuke went to sleep and Souji tried to figure out what the hell he’d do if he woke up to hands wringing his neck like a washcloth. Sexy stuff, that.

“ _Any_ way, I had to play Jan-Ken-Pon with Kanji-kun for the honours, so I guess I should tell you why I’m calling. Teddie’s awake!”

Souji sighed in relief and smiled. Finally, some good news for a change. Dealing with Yosuke’s Shadow had kept him too busy to think much about the situation in the TV world, but having Teddie’s help on that would take a load off his mind for sure. “That’s great to hear. Figures he’d wake up for you.”

She giggled. “But of course! I should have made it back sooner.”

“Are you at the hospital now?”

“Mm-hmm, just stepped outside. If you and Yosuke hurry you can make it before visiting hours are over.”

Souji checked his watch. “He’s not quite off work yet, but I should be able to catch him. I’ll meet you there, regardless.”

“Great! I’ll call the others. See you soon!”

As soon as he hung up with Rise, Souji pulled up Yosuke’s number in his contacts and called him to let him know what was happening. It was likely he was just going to get his voicemail, but there was a chance he was on break, or had his phone with him for something work-related, so he figured he might as well try that first.

While he waited for him to answer, he realized that he was listening to the ringing in stereo, and he frowned with his phone still pressed to his ear as he looked around. The phone connected to their land line hung silent on the kitchen wall. He closed his phone, and the echo ringing stopped. He called Yosuke’s number again and followed the ringing to the bedroom this time, where he found Yosuke’s cell still sitting on the table next to the bed. Souji sighed. Oh well. Not the first time he’d had to deliver a phone or keys or lunch or an umbrella to his tragically absent-minded partner. Odd though, he thought, as he collected the phone from the table and headed out the door to Junes. He could have sworn Yosuke never set a default ringtone for anybody, much less for him.

Finding Yosuke in Junes was a monumental task made insurmountable by the lack of phone contact. When he wasn’t hidden away in the back offices, he was trying to be in a dozen different departments at the same time, and that was assuming he wasn’t simply on break. After checking the food court first and working his way down the floors, Souji wandered the electronics section for old time’s sake while he thought about how best to track him down.

He eyed the flatscreen televisions, thinking about the army of shadows amassing just on the other side. He would probably be fine if he jumped in to take a quick peek at what the situation over there looked like, but he decided it wasn’t worth the risk. The shadows couldn’t cross the barrier between worlds like he could, anyway. They were safe for now – at least, he hoped so. Maybe Teddie could shed some light on that for them….

“Sensei…?”

Souji started – but the voice didn’t belong to Teddie. At the end of the aisle stood Takahashi, sporting a Junes apron and an armful of heavy-looking boxes that almost obscured him entirely.

“Ah. Hello, Takahashi-kun,” Souji greeted him. It was always a little awkward encountering students outside of school, where he wasn’t used to projecting his teacher persona, but at least the students in turn found it equally awkward. Usually, anyway – Takahashi didn’t seem particularly fazed as he set his boxes down on the floor beside a half-constructed pyramid of game systems. “I didn’t realize you worked here.”

“Yeah, well, better this than the food court, right?” said Takahashi with a sheepish grin. He seemed to realize what he was talking about a second after it had slipped out of his mouth, and the grin was replaced in an instant by an anxious grimace. “Oh! Uh, but don’t worry – I’ve worked here for like a year and it’s never interfered with school or anything, so…”

Souji smiled. Far be it from _him_ to criticize the extra-curricular activities of high school students, considering what his own had been. “I’ll be looking forward to your mid-terms so you can prove that,” he said, good-naturedly.

“Me, too, then. Oh – I guess I should do my job, huh?” Takahashi cleared his throat and adopted the biggest, falsest smile that could possibly fit on his face. “Welcome to Junes! Can I help you find what you’re looking for today, sir?”

“Well, since you’re on the clock, I suppose,” he chuckled. “Actually, I’m looking for Hanamura.”

“Senior?”

“Junior.”

“Ah…” said Takahashi, and it was barely perceptible, but Souji thought that maybe the nature of his smile somehow shifted from goofy to knowing and then back again in the space of a second. “Yosuke?”

Souji had to fight hard to keep up his pleasant demeanour as he realized that Takahashi was remembering their meeting from the other day, a thought that in turn made him recall the boys talking about him outside the teacher’s lounge. Dammit. They really did need to be more careful than they were being. “That’s right. Have you seen him?”

“Yep, saw him earlier. I don’t know where he is right now, but I could page him for you if you want?”

“That’d be helpful. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome! See you tomorrow, sensei.”

Takahashi headed off with a wave, and it wasn’t until he turned the corner and disappeared from sight that Souji remembered to relax his shoulders.

A few minutes later, he spotted Yosuke headed in his direction, looking harried and puzzled. He walked sort of stiffly, like he’d slept all wrong and now every muscle in his back was knotted up. Rigid and guarded. Then again, Souji hadn’t really seen him relaxed at all since Iwatodai.

“Hey,” greeted Souji, and then before Yosuke could respond, he added somewhat confusedly, “Do you know that kid?”

Yosuke cast around for the kid in question, but came up just as confused as Souji was. “Uhh…”

“The one who paged you. Minoru Takahashi.”

“Oh, Takahashi? Yeah, he’s a part-timer. One of the good ones. Why? Do _you_ know that kid?”

“He’s one of my students this year. He’s…” Souji remembered then that he never did tell Yosuke about the rumour that had begun to circulate about them. What was there to say about it that they didn’t already know from the suspicious looks they got whenever they went to Aiya or the shrine or travelled part way to work together? It was actually just irritating to think about it now. They had so much more pressing concerns at the moment than gossip and potential teenage rumourmongers. “You know what, never mind. Not important. I’m here for something else.”

“Uhh… okay. What’s up? Did something happen?”

“Well, for starters,” said Souji, holding up Yosuke’s phone. “You forgot this at home.”

“Oh jeez – thanks,” Yosuke sighed as he took it from him. “Kinda surprised I remembered to dress myself this morning, so I guess I got off easy just forgetting this. You didn’t have to bring it all this way.”

“No, but I needed to tell you something and, well – your phone. Anyway, Rise called earlier. Teddie’s awake.”

“Seriously? Thank god. About time something went right.”

“No kidding. So did you want me to wait for you to finish up here, or should I go on ahead?”

“I’ll go. I’m almost done, I was just…um…” To his alarm, Yosuke’s face tightened with distress for a brief moment, a downward twitch of his mouth and brows that passed too quickly for Souji to question him about it. “I was talking to Dad. Not important. Just let me grab my coat and we’ll go.”

“Yeah…” said Souji uneasily, but Yosuke was already leaving. “Sure.”

 

***

Rise greeted them at the hospital entrance with big smiles and even bigger hugs. In the past, she might have made Souji’s hug last a bit longer than necessary and top it off with some flirtatious comment or another, but that was before Yosuke had complained once in a fit of drunken jealousy, and also before she had married her producer and developed a very noticeable baby bump. Time had a way of changing people, he supposed.

“You look great,” said Souji, as she led them through the hallways toward Teddie’s room. “I figured you’d be exhausted by the time you managed to get away from the city.”

“Ugh, you have _no_ idea,” she sighed. “Idols, y’know? They’re energy leeches.”

He chuckled. “So things look a little different from the manager’s perspective, I take it?”

“No way! I refuse to believe I was ever that demanding!”

“Well, they can’t be half as demanding as that’s gonna be,” said Yosuke, gesturing to Rise’s belly. “Think of it as practice?”

“Very funny,” said Rise, making a face at him. “I’ll remember that when it’s your turn.”

Yosuke laughed. “What are you talking about? We’ve already sent ours off to college. We’re way ahead of you.”

“Ohh, I wish I could have seen Nanako-chan before she left! Teddie’s been asking for her, poor guy. He’s been asking for you guys, too. C’mon, he’s just up ahead.”

Teddie’s small room was crowded with their arrival. On one side of his bed, Chie and Yukiko sat close together in two of the spare chairs, while Kanji stood at the end and Naoto hovered nearby in the corner. They waved to her, and she greeted them with a faint smile and a tip of her hat. Teddie himself was surprisingly alert, and perked up even more when Rise entered the room with Souji and Yosuke in tow.

“Sensei! Yosuke!” he cried. “Where have you been?!”

“Dude, chill, we got here as soon as we could,” said Yosuke, although he failed to suppress a grin that gave away his relief and amusement.

“Yeah, Ted, you’ve only been awake for like an hour,” Kanji chuckled. “Give ‘em a chance, here.”

“It’s good to see you’re doing well, Teddie,” said Souji, and Teddie practically beamed with pride. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess. But I kinda wanna go home. This bed is lumpy.”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Ted,” said Yosuke. “The other side is overrun with shadows. That’s how you got hurt, wasn’t it?”

Teddie’s wide, bright smile fell, and he nodded. “Yeah. I tried to get away, but there were so many…”

“Tell you what, Teddie,” said Souji. “We’ll let the doctors check you over just to be sure you’re okay, and then you can come home with me and Yosuke tonight. How does that sound?”

“R-really, sensei?!”

For his part, despite his complaints when it had been Nanako who had made the suggestion, Yosuke made no objection whatsoever to Souji’s proposal, and actually added, “Nanako-chan’s gone to university, so her room’s free. Just stay with us for a while, man.”

Teddie’s initial joy at the prospect of staying with them diminished visibly at the mention of Nanako. “Oh, right… Nana-chan’s gone away…”

“She’ll be back during Golden Week,” Souji promised. “But I know she’ll be thrilled that you’re all right. I’ll help you write a letter to her, if you want.”

That was enough to put the brilliant smile back on his face. “That sounds wonderful, sensei!”

“Ooh, Nanako-chan had better watch out,” Chie teased. “I hear Souji-kun’s letters are pretty powerful.”

Yosuke made a strangled sort of noise at his shoulder, probably regretting that he had ever told her how Souji had confessed to him. Souji smiled at her benevolently, and maybe a little proudly.

“Teddie, if you don’t mind me asking…” Naoto spoke up. “Now that we’re all present, could you maybe elaborate on what happened to you over on the other side?”

”Yeah,” said Yosuke. “You really gave me and Nanako-chan a scare. What busted you up like that?”

“It… it was the shadows,” said Teddie, folding his arms around his knees in a way that made him look even smaller than normal. “There’ve been more and more of them over there lately, If it’s just me, it’s not so bad – they don’t bother me if I don’t bother them. But lately they’ve been really hard to avoid, and really aggressive…”

Souji glanced sidelong at Yosuke, who stared straight ahead at Teddie and refused to meet his gaze.

“If you knew it was so dangerous, you shouldn’ta tried to take them all on by yourself,” scolded Kanji. “Y’need to be more careful.”

“I know,” said Teddie, shrinking down even further behind his knees. “I’m really sorry I worried you. But it was getting so bad and I knew I had to get out of there before I couldn’t anymore. So I did the best I could…”

“That was very brave of you, Teddie,” said Yukiko, and Teddie brightened noticeably at her praise.

“That’s right!” Rise chimed in, as she sat on the edge of the bed and hugged him tightly around the neck. “Maybe a little dumb, but definitely brave. We’re so glad you’re okay.”

“R-Rise-chan,” Teddie stuttered, his cheeks flashing red. “We can’t! You’re a married woman!”

“Oh, what Hiro doesn’t know won’t hurt him…” she giggled with a wink to the rest of them.

Naoto was looking pensive in the corner by herself, but she allowed them a few minutes to shower Teddie with affection before clearing her throat and catching Souji’s eye. “Souji-san,” she said quietly. “If I may ask, what do you intend to do about the shadows?”

“We should go in after them,” he answered. “It worries me that Teddie says things have been getting worse over on the other side. Maybe we can find out what’s driving them to be so aggressive if we explore a little.”

“Huh?” Teddie tilted his head to one side curiously. “What else would it be? It’s the fog.”

The gears in Souji’s head clicked into place as soon as Teddie spoke the word.

“What do you mean?” Chie asked.

“The _fog_ , Chie-chan,” said Teddie again. “The fog clears on the other side, and the shadows get aggressive. That’s the way it’s always been. Lately they’ve been pretty bad even when it’s foggy over there, but now it’s even worse when it gets clear…”

Souji was only barely listening, picturing instead his journal, still sitting on the kitchen table at home. He’d need to check the entries again to be sure, but hadn’t it always been foggy or rainy days that seemed to irritate Yosuke the most? It had thrown him off that Iwatodai didn’t fit the pattern, but maybe the fog was just an aggravator, not a prerequisite…

“It’s been pretty foggy on this side lately, too,” he said. “Has anybody put on their glasses lately?”

“Lots of fog is pretty normal here for spring,” said Chie, “but… do you think it’s coming from the TV again?”

“I’d bet money on it,” said Souji grimly, and this time when he looked at Yosuke, the look of dread on his face told him that they’d reached the same conclusion. Coming this late it was nothing more than confirmation of what they’d already suspected – that Yosuke’s erratic behaviour was linked to his Shadow – but at least it was something else to go on. If figuring out what was going on over there might be linked to helping Yosuke, then that was all the motivation he needed.

“Then whaddya think?” asked Kanji to no one in particular. “Soon as Teddie’s outta here, we go kick some ass?”

“If Teddie’s assessment that things are worsening is accurate, then sooner rather than later would be best,” Naoto agreed. “At this point there’s no telling what kind of damage the fog and the shadows will cause if they are not dealt with.”

“Is it even possible for the shadows to get out?” Yukiko asked. “The TVs are just sitting there in the entrance hall. If they’ve overrun that area, why haven’t they tried to escape?”

“Maybe they can’t,” said Souji. “It fits with what we already know. Just like when Yosuke was stuck over there, nothing can pass through to the other side without a functioning Persona.”

“…That’s not true,” said Naoto.

Souji frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

“There are a few people who don’t fit that description,” she clarified. She then proceeded to count them off on her fingers as she explained. “Namatame, for one. Remember? We saw his Shadow, but never saw it become a Persona. And he had been accessing the TV world for months before even so much as his Shadow had manifested. If he has a Persona, it definitely hadn’t appeared by the time he was throwing us into the other world. And then… well, there’s you, Souji-san.”

“…Oh,” said Souji.

“Izanagi didn’t awaken until you were already on the other side, correct?”

“Yeah. But when I got pulled in the very first time, I thought I heard him then. I mean, I didn’t know who he was at the time, so maybe I was wrong, but…"

“Well, regardless, there’s still one more person who doesn’t fit the pattern,” said Naoto, as she extended a third finger. “Tohru Adachi.”

The name hung over the room like a poisonous cloud. Next to him, Yosuke clenched his hands into tight fists.

“Adachi definitely had a Persona…” said Yukiko after the silence had become uncomfortable.

“Yes, he did,” said Naoto. “Which in itself is troubling. For one, I somehow doubt Adachi faced his Shadow to get it. And for two… it looked an awful lot like yours, Souji-san. What do we know about when he acquired his Persona?”

“Nothing,” said Souji. “Maybe it’s time to fix that.”

“…You serious?” Kanji asked. “I mean, do we really got time to be messing around with that guy?”

“I’ve been keeping tabs on him,” said Naoto. “Discreetly, of course. His prison sentence expired this past December. If you wanted to pay him another visit, Souji-san, I might be able to help you arrange it.”

“ _Another_ visit?” Yosuke echoed, glancing between her and Souji. “Wait – you mean you’ve gone to see him before?”

Naoto shot Souji the same disbelieving _’you didn’t tell him’?_ look that Yosuke was currently sending his way. He should have known this would come back to bite him. Hastily, he tried to explain. “I went to see him in prison a while ago. Right after my uncle died. I needed to be sure he had nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, so you just forgot to tell me?”

“There was a lot going on. It turned out to be nothing anyway, so…”

“And you’re _seriously_ considering doing it again?”

Souji steeled himself and adopted a stern voice, one that even he could recognize as belonging to Dojima. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

The room fell silent. Everyone was absolutely still as they waited for Yosuke’s response, even though Yosuke himself was almost shaking with the effort to suppress one.

“I understand that Adachi may not be the most reliable of sources,” said Naoto after a moment, “but there’s still much we don’t understand about how his power differs from our own. And if our assumption that a Persona is necessary to bypass the barrier between worlds turns out to be wrong, we could be ruined before we even start. I think it would be foolish to ignore him, under these circumstances.”

“Yes,” said Souji, locking eyes with Yosuke. “I agree.”

Yosuke shook his head with a curt, humourless laugh, and then simply turned and walked out of the room.

“Um…” said Rise after an uncomfortable moment. “Are you guys still…?”

“Sensei, is Yosuke mad at you?” Teddie asked, his eyes huge and watery.

“Everything’s fine,” Souji assured them. “Excuse us a moment.”

He refused to run, so catching up with Yosuke in the hallway meant taking long, deliberate strides that didn’t actually dull the impression that he was hurrying at all. “Yosuke, stop,” he demanded once they were within speaking range. When Yosuke didn’t respond, he reached out and grabbed him by the elbow, an action that prompted him to whirl around and wrench violently out of his grip.

“ _What_?” Yosuke snarled.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s _wrong_? I’ll tell you what’s wrong.” Yosuke didn’t retreat this time; instead, he got right in Souji’s face and poked him hard in the chest. “How could you even _think_ of asking that scumbag for help? That murdering psychopath?! He doesn’t deserve your pity.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Yes, it is. You think that maybe there’s something worthwhile about him, right? Like maybe Dojima-san wasn’t _totally fucking wrong_? Like maybe if you just try hard enough, you can redeem the bastard? _Wake up_ , Souji – you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“I’m doing this for _you_ ,” Souji shot back. “I don’t give a shit about him. The shadows acting up - _your_ Shadow acting up – there’s a pretty good chance they’re related. We need to find out everything we can about the other world, and I don’t know if you’ve _noticed_ , but we’re not exactly tripping over Persona-users here. We can’t afford to be picky about who we ask for help.”

“Oh, and let me guess,” Yosuke retorted sarcastically. “I don’t have a say in it, right? I mean, it’s just _me_ you’re doing this for, y’know, it’s not like I have anything to do with –“

“Can we maybe _not_ do this _right this second_?“

Yosuke searched his face with narrowed, piercing eyes, a contemptuous look that Souji wished he thought was out of place on his features. And then, in a voice so quiet and vicious that even Souji was cowed long enough to listen, he said, “You wanted to know so bad what I hate most about you, Souji? Here it is: your stupid fucking obsession with being a hero to goddamn _everybody_!”

The accusation stung worse than he thought it should have, and for a long moment, Souji didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t perfect, he knew that, and yes, maybe he did try too hard to carry everyone else’s burdens, but what was his alternative? How could he stand by and do nothing? The thought that Yosuke couldn’t understand that aspect of him – and not only couldn’t understand, but actively despised it –

“That’s not fair,” Souji hissed back when he found his voice. “That thing is going to kill you. What am I supposed to do? Just let it happen?”

“Let me do something for myself!”

“Okay,” said Souji. “Then _you_ go see Adachi.”

Yosuke wanted to hit him. Souji could see it in the way his whole body tensed and quivered, the way his shoulder twitched back just a bit, but he regained himself a second later.

“I’m not kidding, Souji,” Yosuke said, his voice dropping dangerously low. “That bastard destroyed people’s lives, and I would rather fight my goddamned Shadow a hundred times over than go to him for help. _Tell me_ you understand.”

“Yeah. I get it.”

“…But you’re going anyway, aren’t you.”

“Yeah,” said Souji. “I am.”

In that moment, Yosuke looked at him like he never had before – partly like Souji was a stranger, partly like he had shattered something crucial and there was simply no putting it back together again. Souji waited for the outburst with his breath held tight in his lungs and his hands held rigidly at his sides, but the fire had gone out of Yosuke’s eyes, leaving them cold and clouded. Yosuke opened his mouth to speak, and then either thought better of it, or couldn’t find the right words, and in the end, he opted to say nothing at all before he shook his head and walked away.

Souji found himself thinking bitterly that so much trouble could have been avoided if more of their fights had ended like that.

After a quick trip to the washroom to splash his face with cold water and calm his nerves, he went back to Teddie’s room. When he opened the door, he pretended not to notice the way Rise, Chie, and Kanji had to hop out of the way to avoid being hit by it when it swung in toward them.

“I really… must be going,” Naoto said rather awkwardly. “Grandfather will be expecting me. Um… Souji-san, about Adachi…”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” said Souji bluntly. “We’ll work something out.”

“Ah… Very well.”

The group exchanged uncomfortable glances as they said their farewells to her, and after she had left, the cheerful banter and serious discussion of the situation in the TV world became horrendously strained and uneasy. Teddie no longer said very much unless he was directly spoken to, choosing instead to gaze longingly at the door to his room, like Yosuke might come back at any second. Souji tried his very best not to do the same.


	7. Chapter 7

The sudden and dramatic improvement of Teddie's condition came as a relief to their group, but completely baffled the doctors, and as a result they insisted on keeping him at least overnight to ensure he had indeed made a full recovery. Though Teddie was eager to get out and complained at great length about this injustice, Souji assured him it was for his own good, and that he’d drop by after work the next day to take him home.

He took the last bus back to the shopping district with Rise and Kanji, and it was late by the time they said their goodnights and returned to their respective houses. He climbed the stairs to his apartment, unsurprised to find the lights off and the door locked: Yosuke usually liked to hide behind sleep rather than face an argument head-on. It was an infuriating habit, but at times like this when Souji was simply too exhausted to fight any more, he had to admit he didn't mind it so much.

He flicked the lights on and quietly slipped off his coat and shoes. His journal sat exactly where he had left it on the table, and for a moment he worried that Yosuke might have read it, but upon closer inspection it didn’t look like it had been disturbed at all. He collected it from the table and stuffed it into his laptop bag in the closet to keep it out of sight. Yosuke was upset enough with him as it was without catching Souji examining their problems in such a cold, clinical way.

Trying not to disturb Yosuke, he turned on the light in the hallway so he could sneak into their bedroom and find his way to his sleep clothes an unobtrusively as possible. It wasn’t until he was rummaging through his dresser for a shirt that he realized that their bed was empty.

“Yosuke?” he called out, to a lack of response. He checked Nanako’s mostly-empty room, and the living room just in case he’d walked right by him asleep on the couch, but he was nowhere to be found.

Souji wasn’t sure what he should do. Yosuke obviously needed to let off steam after their fight, but it really was getting late. No matter how upset they were with each other, neither of them ever just took off without communicating in some way whether or not they would be back. He thought about calling his cell, but decided he didn’t want to be intrusive, so he whipped out a quick _Should I leave a light on?_ message and sent it to him instead. No value judgements there – it wasn’t a demand to know where he was or an order to come back. He’d gotten good at the art of neutral texting.

Yosuke’s response came back after a minute, and Souji had to admit that he was surprised to read it. _At the river. Meet me?_

Souji glanced at the clock. He definitely needed to start thinking about getting to sleep, but willingness to talk on Yosuke’s part was a good sign. So he responded that he’d be there in a few minutes, and then grabbed his coat again and headed out the door to make good on his promise.

 

***

Souji had a hard time spotting Yosuke when he arrived – the streetlamp really didn’t give off enough light to cover both the road and the riverbank at the bottom of the hill – but as he descended the stairs and his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw him sprawled on his back in the grass near the water’s edge. He made sure to make his footsteps heavy on his way down so as not to surprise him when he drew closer and sat cross-legged on the ground next to him.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Still mad at me?”

Yosuke spared him an unexpectedly calm, neutral look before turning his face back up to the clear night sky. “I don’t even know anymore, man.”

Despite inviting him there, Yosuke didn’t seem particularly interested in trying to engage him in conversation, so Souji plucked at the blades of grass at his feet, still flat and limp and brown from being crushed beneath the winter’s snowfall. There were no cars passing by on the road, no crickets at this time of year, no birds at this time of night – just them and the soothing, continual white noise of the river, the kind of sound that rendered speaking unnecessary, if you really didn’t want to.

“Teddie’s still in the hospital,” Souji ventured, after he gathered that Yosuke was content to ignore him. “He’ll probably come home tomorrow.”

“Okay,” said Yosuke, and although Souji waited for him to go on, he didn’t.

“Yosuke…” he sighed. “It’s late. I have to be up early for work. If you want to say something to me…”

“I’m trying.”

Souji resolved to give him another few minutes. He leaned back on his hands and stared up at the sky. Even with the streetlamp’s light pollution at the top of the hill, the stars shone brilliantly overhead. He could see why Yosuke still liked to come here. Even apart from the fact that this place was meaningful to them, it was the thing that Yosuke had confessed he’d missed the most while they’d lived in the city. When the world seemed out to get you, there was no remedy quite like looking up and being reminded of how small your problems were, in the grand scheme of things.

“I think…” said Yosuke at last. “I think you were right, all this time.”

“About what?” Souji asked, when he didn’t elaborate.

“About my Shadow. I don’t think I accepted it when I got it back. Not fully.”

“…Okay,” said Souji. That was worrisome, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t suspected it. In fact, it felt sort of good to hear Yosuke say it himself. He wanted to think that was because they could actually move forward now, if Yosuke was willing to face the truth, but if he was going to be honest with himself, then it also felt sort of good to be vindicated after all this time.

“I knew it, but… I just let it sit there, rotting inside me. I was too afraid to face it after all.”

“It’s okay,” Souji assured him. “You realized it in time. Admitting it’s there is the first step – accepting it can come later.”

“I don’t think it can. I think you were right about that, too. I’m running out of time.”

He met Souji’s eyes then, although it seemed to take a monumental effort on his part to tear his gaze away from the sky.

“I want to move back to the city,” he declared quietly.

Souji suddenly felt cold all over in a way that had nothing to do with the evening air of early spring. He watched in dumbstruck silence as Yosuke sat up so they were on the same level, and then stammered out, “That’s… I mean… okay. Sure. If you want to. Nanako was really the only thing keeping us here anyway, so... If you’re willing to wait until the end of the summer, there should be enough time to get a replacement to take my job, and we could…”

He trailed off; Yosuke was shaking his head. His stomach sank. And then, almost too quietly to hear above the rippling water, Yosuke said, “I didn’t mean _us_ , Souji.”

Souji stared at him, tense and silent and wide-eyed – pretending he wasn’t sure he heard correctly. Maybe if he stalled for just a few extra seconds, it’d give them both a chance to realize that this was either a huge mistake or a disastrous misunderstanding.

“I’ve known for a while that it’s easier to deal with this when I’m alone,” mumbled Yosuke, picking up where Souji had left off in destroying the helpless blades of grass where they sat. Souji couldn’t do it anymore. His own hands were dead weight. “Everything’s less complicated that way. You can’t provoke me, I can’t get mad at you, we can’t fight – _ta da_ , no more Shadow.”

Souji desperately cast around for some intelligent counter-argument, but nothing immediately came to mind. He shouldn’t have been surprised at that – it was hard to oppose in a single instant what he had been pushing Yosuke to do for months, after all. “That’s just – you’re just running away,” he blurted out. “That won’t fix anything.”

“Yeah, it will. If I accept my Shadow, it’ll fix everything.” Yosuke took a deep, steadying breath, and on the end of the exhale, almost like an afterthought, said, “Sorry, but… I can’t do this anymore. We can't keep seeing each other. I’m leaving you.”

It didn’t hurt at first. In those first few seconds after the rush of the river carried the words away, Souji didn’t feel anything at all except a weird sort of absence, a void in his chest where all the hurt should have been but wasn’t. Then he remembered to breathe. Of all the things he could have asked, of all the explanations he could have demanded, the question that he finally managed to form was: “For good…?”

Yosuke’s mask cracked a little. His mouth tightened into a grimace and he wouldn’t look anywhere but at his hands, pulling nervously at fistfuls of grass. When he found his voice, it was only to speak a shaking, half-voiced, “Yeah.”

The hurt crashed in on him then, so heavy he thought it would crush him. If at any point over the last year he’d thought he’d been prepared to hear those words, he’d been dead wrong. “This is just…” He wanted to say _kind of sudden_ , but he knew that no, it really wasn’t. For weeks, maybe months now, he’d secretly feared that this was the path their relationship was taking. Did he have any right to beg Yosuke to reconsider? What had he done to prevent this? “I – I don’t know what to say. I mean… Do you still love me?” he asked, partly to continue his streak of stupid questions, but mostly because he honestly had no idea anymore.

Yosuke didn’t seem to know what to make of that question either. He shifted uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck and mumbled, “Don’t ask me that, Souji...”

“Why not?”

“Because – because I don’t _know_ , okay? You’re the first person I ever even _dated_. I don’t know if this is normal or if I’m not in love anymore because I don’t know what any of that stuff feels like. All I know is I need to look after myself right now. And you’re hurting more than helping. So one of us has to go.”

He should have been angry; he should have been logical and rational and torn down the very idea; it should have been like every other fight they’d ever had. And he _was_ angry, deep down, but right now, it was fear, hurt, and confusion that swam closest to the surface. The thought that he could feel anything else ever again seemed ludicrous.

“…Okay,” he said, managing to keep his voice calm and steady, even though he felt anything but. “Okay. I get it. Things are rough right now, and… and maybe you don’t feel the same way about me anymore, Yosuke, but… I don’t want to quit now just because your Shadow is –“

“You don’t _get it!_ ”

Yosuke whirled on him, pounding his fist into the ground as he shouted. The outburst surprised him enough that he recoiled.

“You keep saying _’your Shadow’_ this, _’your Shadow’_ that. My Shadow is _me_ , Souji! _I’m_ the one who’s trying to hurt you. _I’m_ the one who doesn’t want to be with you anymore! _Forget_ about my goddamn Shadow for five minutes and _listen to me_!”

“Yosuke—“

“Ever since this whole fucking thing started, all you wanted to do was blame me. It never even occurred to you that maybe I had good reasons to be pissed off at you all the time, did it?”

“Like _what_?” he asked plaintively. Not demanding. Not accusing. Just desperate for answers.

“Oh, I don’t know, just off the top of my head: your obsessive need to fix everyone’s problems for them? The way you become this complete control freak whenever Susano-O comes up? The way you utterly ignore me when you’re convinced you have all the answers? You won’t let me _fight_ , you hide behind Nanako and throw me out of the house when you don’t want to face me, you didn’t even _ask_ me if I wanted to see Amada, and now you want to step right over me just to go begging that _bastard_ for help!”

Souji held up his hands. “Okay – Yosuke, please, I won’t go see Adachi. I promise. We’ll figure out what’s going on over there by ourselves. I don’t have to go see him if you really don’t want me to. It’s not worth fighting over. ”

“Great,” Yosuke spat bitterly. “I’m glad I only had to break up with you to make you realize that.”

They lapsed into a strained silence. Yosuke’s shoulders slumped visibly, deflated now that he was done yelling. Souji didn’t dare speak or breathe or _blink_ , scared of what might happen next if he did.

“Look, Souji…” Yosuke mumbled. “I get that you can’t be perfect. And… even if I didn’t want it, I know you were just trying to help me. It’s what you do for everyone. But I don’t think… the way we are now is good for either of us. You’re my friend, man. And I want to get out of this before you’re not anymore.”

“…When are you going?”

Yosuke stood up, dusting the torn grass from his pants. “In a couple of weeks. I talked to Dad today about leaving the store – he wasn’t happy about it, obviously, but it’s not like there’s anything he can do to stop me.”

“And where are you staying tonight?”

“…Does it matter?”

Souji scrambled to his feet and grabbed him by the arm, irrationally terrified that if he let Yosuke out of his sight right now, it really _would_ be over. Yosuke still needed somewhere to sleep tonight, and all of his stuff was at their place, so it wasn’t like they wouldn’t be seeing each other soon enough – but he felt the overwhelming urge to keep Yosuke near him, and if he didn’t…

“Come home tonight,“ he begged.

“Souji…”

“Just for tonight. Give me a chance, I’ll – I can change your mind. Please…”

“Stop it, Souji,” Yosuke whispered, his eyes downturned, mouth in a firm line. “It’s no use crying about it now.”

He didn’t even realize that he _had_ been crying until the breeze chilled the wet trails left behind on his cheeks. His chest shuddered, and he covered his mouth with his hand to hold back the wet sob that he could feel building up in his throat. Dammit. He didn’t want to cry in front of Yosuke. He didn’t want to collapse. Not now. He needed to be strong, needed to fix this, needed to take back everything he'd done wrong before...

But it was no use. Yosuke held him as he fell apart, as he turned his face into his neck and cried and sobbed like he never had in front of anyone before. Yosuke’s arms wrapped around his waist almost gingerly, but Souji clutched at him like he was the only thing keeping him rooted to the earth, one hand fisting in his hair and the other clawing between his shoulder blades. It was an awful, childish sort of crying, hard and unabashed, and now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. One thing after another, every thought that crossed his mind made it worse. He could have stopped this. He let this happen. He hadn’t tried hard enough. Yosuke had been losing pieces of himself to his Shadow all year and he hadn’t done a single thing to help him that wasn’t an ultimately selfish, self-serving effort to just make things the way they used to be.

But there had always been something else to do. There had always been work, other people, other pressures. If only he could get things under control in other areas of his life, then he could focus his energy on smoothing things over between them. If only they could find out what was happening in the other world, then surely _that_ would solve everything, instead of facing Yosuke for real.

He was a coward and a failure, and now it was too late to be anything else.

“C’mon,” Yosuke sighed, rubbing his back a little. “It’s late. You need to get home.”

Souji’s crying abated as Yosuke walked him back across the floodplain and through the shopping district, all the way up the street and then up the stairs to their apartment. Yosuke unlocked the door, helped him get his shoes off in the porch, led him to the bedroom where they undressed themselves. Souji tried to kiss him, once, after he’d pulled his shirt over his head and off, and though Yosuke let it happen, his mouth remained still and unresponsive except to say, “Go to bed, Souji.”

Souji did. He crawled under the covers in a tired, puffy-eyed daze, and after the lights were out, he felt Yosuke slide in next to him, his body curling warmly around his own.

“Just for tonight,” Yosuke breathed against his neck. “Okay?”

Souji found his hand and grasped it. Despite his exhaustion, he no longer wanted to sleep. He had no idea how he’d never realized it before now, but he no longer wanted anything that wasn’t this moment dragged out forever. __

_***_

 _April 12th, 2022_

  
What Souji began with a letter, Yosuke ended the same way.

He was alone when he woke the next morning, still bleary-eyed and bone-tired in a way that left little room for doubt that last night hadn’t been an awful dream. He vaulted out of bed, banging his shin on his dresser and cursing up a storm in the process, and he hobbled as quickly as he could out into the hallway, then to the living room and then to the kitchen.

But Yosuke was gone.

There was an envelope on the kitchen table, so he limped over to a chair and sank onto it as he tore it open. It was oddly heavy. As he tipped the envelope to shake its paper contents free, a small metal object fell out and, ill-prepared as he was to catch it, bounced off his palm and then his thigh and then rolled across the floor until it was stopped by the baseboard.

Souji’s throat tightened as he stared at Yosuke’s ring – if that’s what it could be called. It was definitely a ring. It was just as certainly not Yosuke’s anymore. Anxiously, he turned his attention to the short, hastily-written note in his hands.

  
 _Sorry I ran out this morning. I couldn’t face you. Last night took all my courage – I don’t think I have any left._

 _This thing with Teddie and the TV: I’m not gonna run away while you’re still looking into that. You’ve already made it clear that you don’t want me over there, but if you change your mind, I’m staying with Mom and Dad. And I have my phone. (But don’t call if you just want to try to make me come back, because the answer is no.)_

 _I’ll be over to get some of my stuff. Clothes and things. You can have the rest, I don’t want to move with too much._

 _I’m sorry. I know you must hate me right now. But I gotta take care of myself, while I still can. Thanks for everything._

 _  
-Yosuke_

 _  
P.S.: Please don’t tell Nanako yet?_

Souji crumpled the letter up in his fist, and then spent the next five minutes trying to smooth it out before simply tearing it to shreds.


	8. Chapter 8

Work was the last place Souji wanted to be that morning.

Ordinarily, working his way through his problems was his therapy of choice; he wasn’t one to find any value in feeling sorry for himself instead of being productive. But even Souji Seta, Fixer of Disasters, Head Locked Firmly on Shoulders, was able to recognize that standing in front of a classroom immediately after being left by the person with whom he’d spent the last nine years of his life was a worst-case scenario. As he stared blankly out the living room window, arms crossed tightly over his chest and struggling not to stage a repeat of last night’s breakdown, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less.

His attempt to get ready to face the day got as far as burning himself on the stove while he made himself a breakfast he didn’t even want, dropping and smashing a full glass of juice all over the kitchen floor, and then cutting himself pretty deeply on the glass when he tried to pick it up. Sensing defeat before the day had even properly begun, Souji called in sick to work, sat himself down on the sofa, and tried to reason things out.

His head was a mess, his thoughts slow and clumsy and circular. Yosuke was gone. Yosuke wasn’t coming back. He’d be in and out of the apartment to fetch a few of his belongings, but this was no longer the place he wanted to call home. It was ruined; everything they’d fought so hard for, destroyed by a handful of words.

A handful of words – and a year full of hurtful, thoughtless actions. He’d been quick to blame Yosuke all along, so sure that he was justified, but now that it was over, Souji was sick with guilt. He’d never wanted this. Wondered, feared – but not wanted. Not really.

Were they just supposed to go on now like nothing had happened? They’d been a couple for so long that Souji wasn’t sure he remembered what it was like not to be. Maybe they were supposed to go back to being friends, but he’d thought that they’d always _been_ friends, even when they were more. How was he supposed to look at Yosuke and see only the person he’d suffered and fought and laughed with, and not the person he needed and wanted and loved more than anyone in the world? Yosuke had shown him his best and his worst, his bravest and his most vulnerable sides, things that a lover saw that a friend wasn’t allowed. Yosuke had always been his partner – but now he knew him as a friend _and_ a lover, and Souji didn’t know how to separate those concepts anymore. Was he simply supposed to wipe one part of him from his memory so that the other part could survive?

Maybe, he thought, his chest seizing in fear – maybe he was assuming too much. Maybe Yosuke wouldn’t even want to be that much to him anymore. He tried to convince himself that wasn’t the case, that Yosuke’s reason for leaving had been to preserve what friendship they had left, but it wasn’t easy. Maybe Yosuke really didn’t care. Maybe that was why he wasn’t coming back.

He started the day off easy, in an attempt to break out of his sickening spiral of fear and self-loathing. He cleaned up the mess he’d made in the kitchen – swept up the glass more carefully this time, wiped up the spilled juice, put away the abandoned food, cleaned the dishes. It was only after all these things were done that he picked up the tattered pieces of Yosuke’s letter and threw them in the trash bin. He wasn’t sure yet if he regretted destroying it, but he needed it out of his sight one way or another. When that was taken care of, he bent and retrieved the discarded ring from the floor and put it back in the envelope Yosuke had left – for safekeeping, he thought, and certainly not because some tiny, deluded part of himself believed that he might someday want it back.

When the kitchen was tidied, he decided not to stop. Doing things didn’t dull that hollow ache in his chest, but it kept his thoughts moving instead of stagnating in guilt. So he cleaned every square inch of the entire apartment, top to bottom, scrubbing like he could wash the toxic memories of the past year right out of the walls if he tried hard enough.

 

***

“Thank you for letting me stay with you, Sensei!”

“It’s no trouble. Get whatever you like for dinner.”

“Really? Wow, Sensei’s extra generous today! Let me see…”

Teddie’s hospital stay was done. It was past dinnertime when Souji picked him up, much too late to start cooking something at home, so they stopped at Aiya on their way through the shopping district to grab something to eat. The prospect of food still turned Souji’s stomach a bit, but judging by his enthusiasm, Teddie was grateful to have anything that wasn’t from the hospital.

“Ooh, ooh – Sensei! It’s raining, so can I get the Rainy Day Special?”

“It’s pretty big,” Souji warned him, smiling mildly. “Think you can finish it?”

“Are you kidding? I could eat a house. Or a horse. Which one was it again? Oh, I know! Why don’t we share it?!”

“I’d like that.”

Souji ordered for them, and Teddie continued to chat animatedly, thrumming with excitement about his new living arrangements. They’d taken a spot at the counter near the kitchen, and Souji made sure to keep his head down, eyes locked on the countertop directly in front of him. His gaze wasn’t allowed to wander to the corner by the door, the spot where he would always sit with Yosuke when they came here. Though he didn’t particularly feel like eating, the arrival of their massive beef bowl was at least a welcome distraction from those thoughts.

“I’m a lucky bear to get to eat with you like this, Sensei,” said Teddie, in between eager mouthfuls of food. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to spend any time with you!”

“Well, that’s about to change. You may not be able to stay in Inaba forever because of the way you look, but for now at least you can stay with me for as long as you like.”

“Thanks, Sensei. That means a lot.” Teddie’s bright smile wilted into a heavy pout as he fiddled with his chopsticks. “I wish Nana-chan didn’t have to move away, though. It would have been even better if she could have stayed.”

“Yeah. I know how you feel, Teddie.”

“Hee hee, you’re like a proud papa, Sensei. It’s great! You can be my papa too if you want!”

Souji chuckled. “I don’t know if that’d work out…”

“Sure it would! You’re tough and kinda scary when you’re mad, but I bet you’d look right at home wearing slippers and reading a newspaper and telling bedtime stories!”

“You’re a little old for bedtime stories. I think.”

“Ohhh,” gasped Teddie, suddenly gripped by an expression far too serious for the topic matter at hand. “You’re right. I remember now. Yosuke used to tell me that sort of thing isn’t very manly. I didn’t really get it at the time, but maybe he can teach me how to be manly now that we’re living together again!”

Souji swallowed around a sandpaper tongue. Teddie was going to find out soon. As soon as they got home and Teddie started asking where Yosuke was and when he was coming home, that would be it. He wasn’t prepared to tell the others yet, but somehow, lying about it felt like it would demand even more of his depleted energy. Maybe the others could stand not to know for a while longer – but Teddie couldn’t wait.

“Teddie,” he began quietly, setting his chopsticks down in front of him. “I think you should know that… starting tonight it’s just going to be me and you. Yosuke isn’t going to be living with us.”

Watching the slow shock play out on Teddie’s face was horrible, and suddenly, Souji had nowhere to look that didn’t remind him of something painful. “Yosuke’s… not living with us?”

Souji shook his head.

“Is it because you guys are fighting? Chie-chan told me not to bring it up, but – if you’re fighting with Yosuke, I want to help!”

“…Thanks, Teddie. But I’m afraid it’s not the kind of thing anyone can help with. We’re not together anymore.”

“I don’t understand,” Teddie whimpered, his food entirely forgotten now. “That’s… that’s not supposed to happen! I-I thought you were in love! When you’re in love with someone you want to be around them all the time and it hurts to be apart and – and you want to put them before yourself! That’s what Yosuke used to say, isn’t it?!”

Souji winced, not ready to have this conversation at all, much less in the middle of Aiya with people starting to look their way to see what the commotion was about. Maybe Teddie wasn’t too old for bedtime stories after all. It was easy to forget sometimes how young he really was, and that no matter how much time he spent in the real world, he still retained that childlike mentality. He simply couldn’t understand this. “You’re right, Teddie,” he explained quietly. “But I don’t think Yosuke feels that way about me anymore. He was having trouble with his Persona, and we were fighting a lot about it. We were hurting each other. I was hurting _him_. So… he decided he didn’t want to be with me.”

Teddie fell silent for a long time, apparently flabbergasted by this turn of events, like it had never occurred to him before that you could simply stop being in love with someone. Souji didn’t know whether he was jealous or resentful of that kind of naiveté.

“I’m not trying to make you think Yosuke did something wrong,” said Souji. “I know you two are close. I just want you to know what’s happening.”

Teddie nodded, still looking kind of shell-shocked as he stared into the beef bowl on the counter between them. Then, he asked softly, “Are you still mad at him?”

“No. I’m not.”

“Then… are you sad?”

Souji swallowed thickly. Closed his eyes and nodded.

“Don’t worry, Sensei. We’ll think of something…”

He smiled, faintly and obligingly, unable to tell Teddie yet that he didn’t want him to interfere. If Yosuke was going to change his mind, it wasn’t going to be because somebody had asked him to. He barely dared to hope at all that Yosuke would come back – _he never said he didn’t love me_ – but facing the truth that he might not was too terrible to contemplate. It was a private delusion, and as long as it stayed private, it would always have a chance in his mind of becoming something more.

“Thank you, Teddie,” said Souji. “I appreciate it.”

Teddie smiled at him, a tight, pained sort of smile, one that didn’t suit him at all. They delayed in the restaurant a long time by picking at their food. Teddie, it seemed, was no longer eager to get home. Souji felt much the same way. __

_***_

 _April 13, 2022_

The next morning was no better than the last, but his nagging sense of responsibility was already starting to kick in. He had to go to work today. Besides, what would he accomplish by staying home? He’d already gotten the apartment cleaner than it had been since the day they’d moved in – there was nothing to do at home except lay in bed all day being miserable, or hang around with Teddie and try to deal with his well-intentioned but unwanted attempts to cheer him up. Aside from that, spending another long day in the place that reminded him most of his failed relationship sounded like an idea only slightly more stupid than going to work.

So, work it was.

Not that Inaba was short of places that fit that description, and his morning walk to work was nothing but an extended reminder of that fact. Within minutes he had already passed by Aiya, their favourite place to eat together, the shrine, where he’d wished for Yosuke’s recovery last year out of sheer desperation, and the riverbank, where they’d hugged, and beat the hell out of each other, and exchanged rings – with everything that entailed –

And then there was Yasogami.

There was no escaping his memories of his high school year in those hallways. There was the bike rack by the entrance, the second floor stairs where Yosuke used to wait for him after class, the rooftop where he liked to eat lunch sometimes even now. Getting to his desk in the faculty office was like running the gauntlet, and he was already equal parts exhausted and irritated before his first class had even started.

He spent that first class in a daze, and assigned his students plenty of labourious busywork in the hopes that he could spend the hour trying to get his head back on straight instead of lecturing. It didn’t work. He couldn’t get around talking in his second class, so he mostly stumbled his way through a distracted lecture, making mistakes that some of his sharper students picked up on, which irritated him to no end.

By his third class, he was a tyrant. If he couldn’t be happy, then they sure as hell weren’t going to be either. They got homework, and lots of it. The class after lunch got a pop quiz. He got dirty looks for the rest of the week. __

_***_

 _April 16, 2022_

  
By Saturday, his students were as miserable as he was. He could barely pass one of them in the hall without overhearing someone complain in hushed tones about his newfound sadism. That was fine. It filled his heart with a sick sort of satisfaction, if not actual pleasure. It was all the whispering _during_ class that was starting to get on his nerves.

“Ueda,” Souji called out, when he’d decided he’d had enough. The boy in question looked up, flustered and red-faced before he’d even said anything, the very picture of guilt. “If whatever you’re discussing with Suzuki is so important that it can’t wait until after class, then maybe you’d like to share it?”

“N-no, sir,” Ueda stammered, causing the boys sitting around him to burst into cruel snickers. He whirled on them and snarled, “Shut _up_!”, which only further incited them and annoyed Souji.

“Ueda, please don’t make me repeat myself.”

“It’s just a dumb rumour,” Takahashi said mildly from a few seats away. “It’s nothing to get worked up about, Ueda-kun.”

“But you said—!”

“No way,” laughed Suzuki, grinning rather smugly. “That Midnight Channel stuff is for real. Ueda saw his soul mate!”

Souji choked, a small noise that thankfully went unnoticed beneath Ueda’s angry outburst at this declaration and some more prolonged snickering from the students in his immediate vicinity. People were still talking about the Midnight Channel? He hadn’t heard anything about it for a long time. The odd student here and there who’d heard about it from their parents would bring it up once in a blue moon, but no one had ever really taken it seriously. “Well,” he said, once he’d regained his composure, “I’m truly thrilled for you, Ueda. It must have been a wonderful discovery. But if you don’t mind –“

“Who did you see?” asked one of the girls sitting nearby.

“No one!” Ueda hissed at her.

“Yeah right, like we’re gonna let you get away with that,” Suzuki sneered. “You’re not getting out of it that easily. It was totally Mr. Seta.”

Souji froze, partly in surprise, and partly because he at last recognized Ueda and Suzuki’s voices as the ones he’d heard outside his faculty office window. Ueda railed against this accusation with such red-faced ferocity that he was inclined to believe Suzuki wasn’t lying. In the front row, another girl said, “Oh, that’s not a big deal. I mean, it was all fuzzy, but I thought I saw him when I tried it a few days ago too.”

“Me too,” echoed another girl next to her.

“Uh… so did I,” said a distinctively male voice from the back. “Man, that’s a relief.”

“Okay,” said Souji loudly, holding up his hands to quiet the growing cacophony. “Quiet, please. As flattering and uh, revealing as this conversation has become, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you. The Midnight Channel is just a visual trick. Like an inkblot. If you look at it long enough you start to see things in it that aren’t there.”

“If it’s like an inkblot, wouldn’t it be more like seeing what you _want_ to see?” asked Takahashi.

“Oh, screw you,” grumbled Ueda.

“If you’d like to entertain the somewhat disturbing notion that half of you want me to be your soul mate, then sure, you could look at it that way,” said Souji. To his relief, that was met with the kind of easy, collective laughter that suggested everyone thought the idea was pretty ridiculous after all, and more or less settled the matter. “But if I were you I’d be more worried about something that’s a little more concrete – like the fact that this page in particular might be relevant to your midterms.”

Class carried on more typically after that, but Souji could barely keep track of it. He was sure there was nothing to worry about – nobody was being kidnapped or thrown into the other world, after all – but it was still deeply rattling to find out he was being seen on the Midnight Channel. Was he in danger, or wasn’t he? Who else outside their group knew about it, aside from Namatame, who had moved out of Inaba years ago and knew what he’d been doing was wrong, and Adachi, who was in prison?

…Except Adachi _wasn’t_ in prison, he realized, remembering what Naoto had said at the hospital the other day. Did he have something to do with this? Would he come after them, now that he was free? The possibility loomed in the back of his mind for the rest of the day, casting a shadow over everything he thought and did, and everywhere he went.

 

***

He was dozing lightly on the couch later that night, waiting for midnight to arrive so he could confirm with his own eyes what his students had revealed to him, when Teddie woke him up with a jab to his shoulder and offered him the telephone.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” he apologized. “It’s Nao-chan. She wants to talk to you…”

Souji rubbed his face to wake himself up and shuffled himself to a sitting position as he took the phone. “Hello?”

“Souji-san,” said Naoto. “Is everything all right?”

What a question. He was so tired that he almost spilled everything to her, dignity and privacy be damned. “Yes, of course. I was just falling asleep. Is something the matter?”

“No, not especially. I’m sorry for calling so suddenly. It’s just that it’s been several days since you said you would contact me and I was wondering if you’ve decided what you’re going to do regarding Adachi.”

Souji’s head throbbed, an ache that had been building slowly all day and of which a couple of painkillers had failed to rid him. Right. That mess. “I’m sorry. I completely forgot. Something came up.”

“Souji-san, if we’re going to seek his assistance, doing it sooner would be—“

“I know, I know,” he interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I’m… I can’t.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I’ve changed my mind. We’ve wasted enough time. I’m not going to see him.”

There was an awkward pause on Naoto’s end, as there usually was when she was trying to figure out how to be diplomatic in the face of stupidity. “Um,” she ventured, “Is this about Yosuke-san?”

His stomach lurched at the sound of his name. “No,” he said firmly, even though it kind of was. His willingness to disregard Yosuke’s strong feelings on the matter had been the last straw in their problems. Maybe if he just respected his wishes on this one thing, then maybe…

God, how pathetic could he be?

“I mean no disrespect in saying this,” said Naoto, “but Yosuke-san’s judgement in this matter is… clouded. I don’t want you to do something that will strain your relationship with him, but I think he is being unreasonable in this case.”

He honestly didn’t know what to say. Just days ago he’d shared her opinion that Yosuke was being unreasonable, and yet now he had to fight down the urge to defend him to her. It would be so much easier to tell her the truth – _I was dumped, okay? Give me a few days for my heart to get untrampled_ – but the words just wouldn’t come out. She wouldn’t understand. He knew what she would say: he should put his personal feelings aside. They had more important matters to deal with right now. His judgement was _clouded_.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “Did I say something rude?”

“No,” said Souji. “I understand what you’re saying. But it’s – it’s something else.”

“Something else?”

“Yeah. I was in class today, and… some of my students told me they’ve seen me on the Midnight Channel.”

True, it was only part of the reason for his reluctance, but it was enough to throw her off her line of questioning. She sucked in a breath. “Were they certain it was you?”

“Apparently the picture was fuzzy – obviously, since I’m not actually in there. But they were certain enough to make me worried.”

“All the more reason we should track down Adachi as soon as possible, then.”

“Are you sure? I was wondering if it would be wiser to stay away from the person with the track record of pushing people into televisions. Especially if he’s maybe not so happy with us.”

“All the same…”

“Naoto,” he sighed abruptly, his patience for diplomacy already worn thin. “Why are you calling at this time of night?”

“…Sorry?”

“When I picked up, you asked me if everything was all right. Why were you expecting it wouldn’t be? And what was it that couldn’t wait?”

Another long pause followed his question – this one he recognized as the kind that happened when he managed to corner her and she was attempting to think her way out. But it was late, and neither of them seemed to be in quite the right mood for games, so she didn’t hold out for long. “I spoke with Yosuke-san earlier,” she confessed.

Souji’s stomach dropped. “Really. About what?”

“When you failed to contact me, I assumed that he was the reason. That he had convinced you not to go through with your plan. So I contacted him tonight and tried to persuade him to change his mind. I expected an argument, but instead he told me that you were free to do as you pleased.” The cold and analytical tone fell away from her voice. “Souji-san… I’m asking as a friend, and not to intrude. How bad are things between you?”

Souji rubbed his eyes. He was so tired. Maybe it was time to stop fighting. “…Bad,” he admitted quietly.

“And Yosuke-san’s behaviour as of late…?”

“You were right. His Shadow still wanted something and… it got it.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry…”

“No… I’m sorry. I’m letting you all down, and…”

“I’m not going to berate you for being human, Souji-san. And if you’ve decided that Adachi should not be our priority right now, I think I speak for all of us when I say we will respect your decision, even if I disagree.”

Souji immediately felt guilty for assuming her response would be anything else. “I know. Thank you.”

“I took the liberty of managing our schedules to arrange a time when we could all investigate the other world. If we’re forgoing contact with Adachi, then we should at least get started on that. How does Wednesday evening sound?”

“That’s fine.”

“Wednesday, then. Please get some rest, Souji-san. You’ll need your focus soon enough.”

“Thanks,” Souji said. “For everything.”

“Souji-san?”

“You were calling to check up on me, right? So… thanks.”

“…You’re welcome.”

She hung up. Souji tossed the phone aside. He sat on the couch with his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes into their sockets with the heels of his palms, trying to massage the headache away. He already felt guilty about his choice – about lying to Naoto, and lying to himself. Adachi probably didn’t have anything to do with the Midnight Channel. His reluctance was linked solely to Yosuke, and he knew it. If he could just do this one thing…

“Um… Sensei?”

He looked up. Teddie was standing over him, a sheet of paper clutched in his hands.

“I’m writing a letter to Nana-chan, like you said,” he mumbled. “I was gonna ask you to check it for me, but maybe you’ll feel better if you write to her, too? You can use the rest of the paper…”

Souji took the letter from him and looked it over. It was short, but sweet and honest, mostly Teddie chatting in his extra-friendly way about his new home and how much he missed her and how he hoped she was having fun in Iwatodai. She would appreciate it. But the chatty Teddie in the letter and the subdued Teddie that sank down next to him on the couch seemed like very different people, to him.

“I think I will. Thank you, Teddie.”

“And then we can write a letter to Yosuke, too. Maybe he’ll come back if he knows how much we miss him.”

“…Yeah. Maybe.”

Teddie pressed up against his side, burrowing in so close that Souji had no choice but to loop his arm around his shoulders. It was the kind of thing Nanako used to do when she was upset, or Yosuke used to do when he was sick – something that had become such a natural signal that his comfort was required that he didn’t think twice about providing it to Teddie, too.

“Do you think Nana-chan will come back?” Teddie asked sadly.

“It’s hard to say. She might decide she likes living there. It’s where Amada lives, so…”

“Right…” he mumbled. “He likes her a lot, doesn’t he?”

“I think so.”

“…I liked her a lot, too, Sensei.”

It wasn’t raining outside. The Midnight Channel never came on. They sat in silence together on the couch until Teddie fell asleep, leaving Souji feeling a little bewildered and sad. He’d assumed that Teddie wasn’t really capable of fully grasping the situation between him and Yosuke, or of understanding how much he was hurting, but he’d been wrong. Of all their friends, Teddie was probably the one who understood the most.


	9. Chapter 9

_April 17th, 2022_

  
Souji was compiling a list in his head of things that were easier and things that were harder without Yosuke around, but he wasn’t sure why he bothered. The things in the easier list (keeping the apartment clean, not having to think about whether he’d remembered to take his lunch to work, not being woken up by music blasting from the stereo) didn’t even come close to outweighing the things that were harder (getting out of bed in the morning). It gave him something to think about, though. Carrying groceries up their apartment stairs definitely fell into the ‘harder’ category. Teddie did his best, but ended up dropping things in his gargantuan effort to carry what Yosuke typically could.

Buying groceries was harder, too, especially when the very thought of setting foot in Junes and running into Yosuke in an aisle somewhere still turned his stomach. Miraculously, there’d been no sign of him there today. Souji wondered how long they could avoid each other in such a small town.

His question was answered when he opened the door and set his bags down beside a pair of shoes that had been missing from the porch since last week. Quickly, he turned around and took Teddie’s bags from him before he could set foot in the apartment.

“Thanks, Teddie,” he said. “Could you go next door for a few minutes?”

“Huh? To Kanji’s? Okay, but—“

“Wait for me there. I’ll be over in a bit.”

Teddie frowned, but nodded and headed off obediently. Souji took a few calming breaths that didn’t seem to work, and then went back inside.

He walked in on Yosuke in the bedroom, rummaging through the closet, dresser drawers part-way open everywhere and a half-filled suitcase sitting open on top of the bed. Souji halted in the doorway. Yosuke caught sight of him in the mirror that hung inside the closet door, and paused in the middle of pulling a shirt free from a hanger. He didn’t turn around; they exchanged an awkward, indirect stare via their reflections.

“Hey,” said Yosuke, as he went back to his work. “I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

“You’re not...” Souji began, but he trailed off when he realized he didn’t know how to finish. He wasn’t above begging him to reconsider, but Yosuke was stubborn enough that he wouldn’t be swayed by it. Begging would only make Yosuke dig in his heels against him. “Take your time,” he said instead, and retreated to the kitchen to give him some privacy – and himself a moment to gather his wits.

When he was almost done putting the groceries away, Yosuke emerged from the bedroom with a backpack slung over his shoulder, a suitcase in one hand, and his guitar in the other. He set them all down by the door, where they anchored Souji’s gaze. He was less disturbed by their presence than he was by the thought that, in a few short minutes, they wouldn’t be there anymore.

“I was, um… kind of hoping you wouldn’t be here to see this,” said Yosuke, leaning heavily on the back of a chair. Souji in turn leaned against the counter, allowing the table to sit between them and provide plenty of distance. “I wasn’t trying to rub it in, but I had to come back. Only so many of Dad’s shirts I can stand to wear.”

He laughed feebly. Souji tried a smile and got as far as a twitch of his lips. “No, I’m – I’m glad I caught you,” he said. “I was wondering how you were doing, but I wasn’t sure if I should call.”

He hadn’t realized he’d been hoping for Yosuke to tell him he _could_ call until he didn’t. Instead, Yosuke shrugged, and that careless gesture pounded down that stupid, naïve part of him, that _hope_ he hated harbouring but couldn’t seem to shake. “I’m okay,” he said. “Still here for another week, at least. Dad’s really wringing everything he can get out of me before I go. You?”

“Yeah, I’m… good,” said Souji, officially topping the list of the most grandiose lies he’d ever told. “Having Teddie here is a little strange, but I’m glad for the company.”

“That’s good. He can be a pain sometimes, but he can be good to have around, too…”

They fell silent. Souji cast around for something to say that wouldn’t make him sound as pleading and desperate and miserable as he felt. They were already treating each other like strangers, and he hated it. Desperate to keep the conversation going, but for lack of something else to say, Souji asked, “So, uh… What about Susano-O?”

He regretted asking the question immediately. Yosuke stared at the table, his shoulders rigid, his hands gripping the chair in a death lock. “What about him?” he asked, his voice neutral and calm in a way that Souji knew from years of familiarity meant he was anything but.

“I mean… is he okay now?” he elaborated. Like it or not, he’d asked the question, and now he had to follow it through. “Did it, you know… work?”

“Do you think that’s what this is about?”

Yosuke’s sharp, hurt glare paralyzed him. It was all he could do to sputter, “No, I was just— wondering if—“

“I’m not doing this to get Susano-O back, Souji. I’m doing this so I can be _myself_ again, so I won’t hurt someone else I love. If I had a choice? If it meant I could stay? I’d give this goddamn power back in a heartbeat.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean – I’m sorry.”

Yosuke sighed as his shoulders slumped, and the aggression and tension eased out of his frame and his voice. “No… I’m sorry. You meant well. He’s been easier to handle since… um. But he’s still not really back yet, no.”

“I see.” A dark, uncharitable part of him was ecstatic to hear that admission. If being apart from him didn’t help in calming his Shadow and regaining Susano-O, then that was one less reason for Yosuke to stay away. Maybe it if didn’t work, he stood a chance of fixing things.

But that had been Yosuke’s problem with him all along: fixing things. Yosuke wasn’t just something he could put back together to suit his own needs. He was a person, as flawed as any other, and now the task set before Souji was to learn how to let him be exactly that.

“Have you told anyone yet?” Souji asked.

“Chie,” said Yosuke. “I was talking with her this morning and it came out, so I’m sure Yukiko knows by now, too. How about you?”

“Teddie knows, obviously. Naoto figured it out on her own.”

Yosuke snorted. “Figures. I barely said anything to her, but I guess I let it slip somehow.”

“Yeah, that happens.” Souji licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry when he got around to the real reason he had asked the question. “When, um… When should I tell Nanako?”

“…I don’t want you to.”

“She has to find out sometime, Yosuke…”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant that I want to do it.”

Souji blinked, honestly thrown off-guard by that admission. “Are you sure…?”

Yosuke made his mouth a firm line, and nodded. “Yeah.”

“…Can I ask why?”

“Because… you’re her family,” Yosuke said with a shrug. “She’s always going to have you, whether she likes it or not. If I let you tell her, then she doesn’t need to speak to me anymore. I don’t want to just… disappear from her life because she gets busy and forgets to call, and then suddenly it’s been a year and we haven’t spoken to each other and we’re okay with that. I don’t want to be just some guy who fucked her brother for a while and then moved on.”

“She doesn’t think of you like that…”

“No… she doesn’t,” Yosuke agreed solemnly. “You’re right. I’m her family, too. But you’re everything to her, man – I’ll never live up to what she sees in you. And I know she’s gonna be pissed at me either way, so I’d rather face it head-on.”

Souji nodded. “Okay. If it means that much to you…”

“Thanks, man.”

Yosuke straightened up and turned toward the belongings he’d dumped by the door. Souji instinctively started toward him with a suddenly pounding heart, realizing in a rush that Yosuke was about to really leave this time and he hadn’t said half of what he’d wanted to say. If he could just _think_ of something, anything to stop him, _say_ something that would change everything and make this a catastrophic dream—

“I’m not doing it,” Souji blurted out as Yosuke slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I’m not going to see Adachi.”

Yosuke glanced at him, and the look that Souji saw there, that aching look of _pity_ , like Yosuke saw right through him and understood exactly why he had said it, tore him apart. “I’m glad,” he said. “You made the right choice. You guys going into the TV world anyway?”

“Yeah,” said Souji. “Wednesday.”

He nodded. Then he turned and opened the door, hefted his suitcase and his guitar and glanced back over his shoulder. “All right. Be careful.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

And then he was gone, out the door, and out of Souji’s life, the only things of value he’d managed to find in the last nine years packed into two bags and a hard case. Souji sank down against the cupboards, hiding his face in shaking hands.

 

 

Half an hour later, he was greeted at the door of Tatsumi Textiles by a very confused Kanji, and a Teddie with eyes almost bigger and sadder than the ones on his suit. “Sorry to send him over without asking,” said Souji. “You ready to come home, Teddie?”

Teddie nodded uncertainly.

“Hang on a sec.” Kanji frowned as he got a good look at Souji’s face. “You look like hell. What’s up?”

“Nothing…” Souji said, but his voice was raw and tight and it sounded like a flimsy excuse even to him. He’d waited as long as he could, stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror until he was sure his face was no longer red, but apparently he’d misjudged how normal he looked. When Kanji raised a scarred, sceptical eyebrow, Souji sighed and looked away, and said, “Yosuke broke up with me. He’s gone.”

“Aww, shit,” Kanji swore under his breath, and Teddie made a miserable little noise behind him. “You’d better come in, man. I’ll get the sake.” __

_***_

 _April 18, 2022_

  
Souji stared blearily at the work on his desk, cursing himself for the hundredth time that day for thinking it had been a good idea to drink with Kanji on a Sunday night, and wanting nothing more than to pack up and go home before he was sick all over a stack of assignments. He could go home if he wanted – classes were done for the day – but he knew that as soon as he got there he was going to dive straight into being useless for the rest of the night while he recovered from this hangover, and then this work wasn’t going to get done. He’d made his stupid bed with all that stupid sake (and then beer, and then spirits, and if Naoki had no idea he and Yosuke were having problems, then he probably suspected it by now), and now he was going to wallow miserably in it.

By some stroke of luck, he was alone in the faculty office that afternoon, his colleagues either busy with prior engagements or already gone home for the day. It _was_ getting late, he supposed. The sun was beginning to set, and somewhere underneath that sloshy, queasy feeling in his stomach, he recognized a faint rumble of hunger. He resolved to try and work just a bit longer. With no distractions in the office, it was a better work environment than home, where both Teddie and comfortable things for him to lie down on were available to tempt away his attention.

No sooner than he had thought this did the faculty office door slide open, and Souji looked up to see Minoru Takahashi standing just outside.

He glanced around for a second before asking, “Ms. Kashiwagi’s not here?”

“No,” Souji answered. “Was she supposed to meet you?”

“Yeah. Should I come back?”

Souji turned back to his papers. “You can wait here if you’d like. If she’s supposed to be here, she’ll be here.”

“Thanks.”

Takahashi took a seat by the window and quietly took out a book to read from his bag. Souji tried to pay him no mind, but even though he was being as unobtrusive as humanly possible, his mere presence was enough to distract him. So much for working. Teddie was probably wondering when he was coming home anyway. If he couldn’t work, then at least he could turn his attention to making dinner, and then cleaning up. He wasn’t sure what he’d do after that, but he’d figure it out. That’s what his life had become over the last week, just a series of tasks, one after another, an endless to-do list comprised of things to distract him so he wouldn’t have to think about—

“So Hanamura-san’s leaving, huh?”

Souji looked up, startled out of his thoughts. “Pardon?”

Takahashi turned a page in his book, and shrugged. “He told me at work the other day. He’s moving out of Inaba soon. Didn’t you know?”

“Yes,” said Souji, attempting to concentrate on his work again while his stomach churned unpleasantly. “But I don’t think that’s your concern.”

“Ah… sorry,” said Takahashi. “I just thought it would be something to talk about, since he’s a mutual acquaintance. I didn’t realize you were upset about it.”

“I’m not upset about it.”

Takahashi raised an eyebrow, clearly disinclined to believe him. Why should he? He was just one of a hundred students who had felt his misplaced wrath last week, and he seemed capable enough of putting two and two together. “Oh? But isn’t he your roommate?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not upset that he’s ditching you?”

“Takahashi,” Souji warned. “If there’s something you’d like to discuss that isn’t related to my personal life, I’d be happy to oblige you.”

“I was just curious...”

He sighed. “Hanamura is an old friend. He’s free to come and go as he likes.”

“I see.”

Takahashi was silent as he set his book aside and stared out the window, facing away from Souji and framed by the orange light of the setting sun. Souji tried his best not to be irritated now at his presence. What was with this kid? He’d been so pleasant when Souji had first met him, but today something felt off about him, like it had that time they’d met in the aisles at Junes. He was clearly articulate and intelligent, but he was also careless and intrusive, like he didn’t quite know the unspoken rules of social interaction. Souji might have forgiven this flaw as a result of his switching schools and moving around, if what he said next hadn’t irritated him so.

“There are rumours about you guys, you know.”

Souji set his pen down. So it was going to come to this. He swivelled in his chair and braced his elbow on his desk, assuming as casual a posture as possible for what was sure to be a very tense conversation. “Yes,” he said. “I know.”

“Are they true?”

“No,” he answered calmly. And though it hurt like hell to say it because now it was the truth, he added, “I can understand how a rumour like that would get started, but like I said, Hanamura is an old friend. Nothing more.”

“I see,” said Takahashi, and strangely, he sounded a little disappointed that time. “To tell you the truth… I was hoping you would understand.”

“Understand what?”

“I’ve never told anyone this before, but… I was abandoned by someone I loved,” he said. “We’d been together for a long time, and I adored him, but… eventually, when he looked at me, he didn’t like what he saw anymore. And he left me.” Takahashi stared down at his hands. “I guess when Hanamura-san told me he was moving away, I was hoping you might understand what that felt like.”

So that was it. Souji’s annoyance gave way to sympathy, and suddenly he wasn’t sure what to do. Takahashi’s revelation changed the entire situation. He wasn’t interested in sharing his personal life with a student, but it was hard not to empathize with him, a gay teenager in a tiny town that would eventually start rumours about him, too. Their situations really did mirror each other in more ways than he’d thought. Didn’t he have a responsibility to extend his reassurances to Takahashi, to create a safe space for him where no one but their friends had done the same for him and Yosuke?

Yes, he did. But he didn’t have to indict himself while doing it.

“Takahashi-kun,” he said, softening his name in an attempt to make amends for his earlier snappishness. “I may not be in a similar situation, but that doesn’t mean I can’t understand. You’re my student, and I would do everything in my power to help you. If someone is giving you trouble…”

Takahashi turned to face him. The sunlight seemed to both soften and obscure his features, until Souji had to wonder whether his face had always been quite so androgynous, or his hair always just a little longer than he’d thought it had been. “So you and Hanamura were never…?”

“No,” said Souji. “We weren’t.”

“Liar.”

Souji’s eyes widened. The vulnerability had vanished from Takahashi’s voice in an instant, replaced by a cold, hard edge. “Excuse me?”

“Even while your life falls to pieces around you, you’re unable to embrace the truth.” Takahashi’s face twisted in disgust. “You’re really nothing special after all. Just another failure. How disappointing.”

His sudden burst of rudeness left Souji dumbstruck. When he regained his wits, it was all he could do to point to the door and demand quietly, “Leave, now.”

Takahashi stood – but instead of exiting the room, he approached him with slow, steady steps. “Why? So you can plug your ears and shut your eyes, as you’ve done all along? So you can continue running and denying the truth that has always easily been within your grasp? I’m afraid the time for that is over.”

Souji froze in his chair. He wasn’t imagining things: Takahashi _did_ look different now, just a small shift in his appearance toward slightly more effeminate features – and suddenly he was looking at a face he knew. They’d exchanged words so many times on rainy days outside the gas station – but that couldn’t be possible. That had been more than ten years ago, and they’d been the same age then –

“How did you—“ Souji breathed. “Who the hell are you?”

Takahashi smiled, mockingly, and extended his hand.

It struck him so hard he couldn’t hold back a tortured gasp – a wave of dizziness and nausea so intense it would have floored him had he not already been seated. As it stood, he had to brace himself on the desk to keep from toppling out of his chair. He thought he caught a glimpse of something while the room was spinning: Takahashi at the gas station ten years ago, extending his hand toward him in exactly the same manner he was doing now, and this same awful feeling blossoming inside him when he shook it, and oh, god, if this didn’t stop he was going to be sick—

And then suddenly he had Izanagi to contend with as well. His Persona was prodded awake by the disturbance, and highly agitated, which only deepened his distress. Izanagi wasn’t like Mada and Sraosha and the others. Izanagi never reacted to _anyone_.

“And here I’d thought I’d made it too _easy_ for you,” said Takahashi, as Souji bent trembling and gasping over his desk. “I chose such an obvious target, the ultimate motivation: what mortal would not do what was necessary to save the life of someone dear to them? The only thing you needed to do in order to help him was face the truth, accept that you were the one responsible for his pain. But still you refused.”

“You… you did something to Yosuke,” Souji accused, drawing strength from the sheer rage surging inside him at the realization. “Didn’t you? _What did you do?_ ”

“Me? We exchanged a simple handshake just over a year ago, on the day we met at Junes. I upset that delicate balance within him that humankind struggles with every day.”

“You – you sealed his Persona...!”

Takahashi scoffed. “Fool. Ridding him of his Persona would render him useless, the same way erasing the Shadow would. These two entities are inseparable from a human’s psyche. Don’t be so quick to assign blame to me – all I did was provide the push, tip the balance ever so slightly. It was he who couldn’t right himself again, and you who did precisely nothing to stop it.”

Souji physically cringed with guilt. Their fault. _His_ fault. He could have stopped it, he should have known— “No, I… I tried to help him. I wanted to help him, more than anything…”

“Not more than dodging the blame, apparently.”

“No. _You_ interfered, it’s _your_ fault he’s suffering!”

Takahashi levelled him with a fierce glare, and in the space of the following second he was slammed by an intense, invisible pressure that pushed him back and down into his chair hard enough to steal his breath away. Panic-stricken, Souji strained and struggled to lift his body, but could only thrash uselessly as Takahashi loomed over him.

“You should be thanking me,” he murmured. “You were among the handful of people chosen to demonstrate humanity’s potential, and you failed your first test miserably. In my _infinite_ generosity, I chose to give you another chance.”

He reached out to touch Souji’s face; fearing another spell of nausea and vertigo, Souji jerked his head away instinctively, cringed again when cold fingers gripped him hard by the chin. But nothing happened this time. “What are you talking about?” he demanded, struggling to keep his voice steady.

Takahashi smiled. This close up, there was something unearthly about him – her? Souji couldn’t even tell anymore – something ethereal, even as he felt the very tangible grip on his jaw tighten. The contact irritated Izanagi even more; Souji could practically feel him writhing and thrashing around in his mind, anxious to be freed. “Eleven years ago, I gave you and two others a spark of power, and started rumours about the Midnight Channel. The others squandered their powers selfishly and foolishly, but you were sufficiently strong-willed to best them. You had such potential.” Takahashi’s saccharine-sweet smile quickly soured. “But you turned your back. Even though the other one tried to help you, you ignored him. You failed to discover the truth behind everything, content to accept that you had done all that was possible. Such selfish, human arrogance.”

Souji wrenched his head out of Takahashi’s grip. It didn’t help his mobility, but it did quiet Izanagi for a moment, clearing out some of the static in his brain and giving him a second to think. “There were others?” he asked. He had to be talking about Namatame and Adachi – the only other people besides himself who seemed to have gained their powers independently of facing their Shadows…

“Three outsiders, in total,” said Takahashi. “Hope. Emptiness. Despair. All three of you were capable of becoming any one of them, and all three of you _were_ all of them, at one point. But each of you fell into your roles over time. The others could not comprehend what kind of power I had awakened within them, but you…” A cold finger trailed down his cheek, strangely affectionately, but the unexpected tenderness of the touch did little to quell Souji’s – _Izanagi’s?_ — shudder of revulsion. “You came the farthest. So I let you try again. I decided that if you could atone for your past mistakes, and demonstrate mankind’s capability to cling to truth instead of falsehood, I would leave you in peace. But you disappointed me again.”

“If you were behind the Midnight Channel,” said Souji, “does that mean you’re the reason people are talking about it now?”

“Correct. I also began the rumour about you, to gauge your reactions. I wondered to what lengths you would go this time to avoid your reality. Run away to another city? Continue lying to the people you consider a community? I thought you might admit its truth if I applied a little pressure, but I must admit – your resolve to do absolutely nothing in the face of adversity remains ever impressive.”

“That’s not fair,” Souji spat. “If you hadn’t done that to Yosuke, we never would have—“

“No?” Takahashi interrupted. “Running, hiding, denying the truth of your problems, turning your back on those who have shown you nothing but adoration – you have a long, _long_ history of such behaviour.”

“That’s not true…”

“Do you really think he wouldn’t have abandoned you eventually? Do you honestly think _I’m_ the one at fault? I simply sped things along to their inescapable end. And now…” Takahashi laughed, a sound that was cruel, cold, and this time distinctly feminine. “Now you’ve been given a taste of the cruelty you’ve so carelessly inflicted on others. Now you understand the pain of being discarded.”

The room flooded with thick, white, fog, blocking out the fading sunlight and seeping in through the windows. Souji struggled in vain to escape his chair, still disoriented with nausea and Izanagi’s restlessness. When the fog was so thick it obscured his vision almost entirely, he lost sight of Takahashi for an instant, and when he reappeared, he had assumed the form of a ghostly woman in white.

“I am Izanami,” she said, and he could just barely hear her over Izanagi’s anguished cries. “Creator and destroyer. The fog will envelop everything, and the world will be reduced to Shadows, as humanity wishes. Your death is a foregone conclusion, but if you would prefer death at my hands to waiting for that end… you know where you can find me.”

“I won’t let you do this…”

Izanami smirked. “We’ll see. One last thing: since you so blatantly spurned my generosity and fritted away the gift I gave to you… I trust you won’t mind if I take it back?”

He froze, eyes wide, too stunned to continue fighting – until he saw her reaching toward him again, and then he renewed his frenzied struggle to break free. “No,” he begged, as he realized her intention. “Please, don’t!”

“You did face a few difficult truths,” Izanami mused, as her hand closed over his eyes. “That is something even I cannot take away from you now. Very well. Hold fast to those worthless shreds of power, human, but the rest isn’t yours to keep. Return it to me at once.”

They screamed. His body jolted and spasmed with searing pain, and suddenly there was no distinguishing his own screaming from that of his other selves, not until one after another they were systematically silenced, excised from him with terrifying speed and precision. He clawed desperately at her fingers and wrist and arm, shrieked and sobbed and begged her to stop, _stop it_ , they were him and she was _destroying them_ , piece by fragile piece, destroying _him_ —

 

 

His next burst of clarity found him slumped on the faculty office floor, a paramedic at his side and the blurred figures of some of his colleagues hovering at the edge of his swirling vision. _Hit his head,_ he heard someone say, and he managed to scrape together just enough focus to catch a glimpse of Minoru Takahashi leaving the room with another teacher. He opened his mouth to call after them – _dangerous, she’s dangerous, get away from her_ –- and then the darkness was dragging him back under into a voiceless, dreamless sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Yosuke was sitting down to dinner with his parents when his phone rang.

“Always during dinnertime…” his father sighed, and Yosuke muttered an annoyed agreement. He was tempted to let it go to voicemail, but he was also expecting a call about an apartment he was considering, so answering would probably be worth his while. He fished his phone from his pocket and frowned when he didn’t recognize the number on his call display. Local number – definitely not from the city, and probably nobody he knew. But he’d come this far, so he decided he might as well answer it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” said a male stranger on the other end. “May I speak with Hanamura-san, please?”

“Speaking…”

“Ah, Hanamura-san. This is Asano calling from Yasogami. I’m sorry to disturb you, but there’s been an accident and you’re listed as Seta-san’s emergency contact…”

He couldn’t figure out exactly what part of that statement was responsible for driving that sick, icy, plunging sensation down through his guts – Souji, or the idea of something happening to Souji, or that frank reminder of a status he really shouldn’t have anymore. Probably a bit of everything combined. He noticed that both of his parents were staring at him, and only then did he realize that his mouth was hanging open. “Is – is he all right?” he managed after a second.

“He’s suffered a mild concussion,” said Asano, and Yosuke felt his eyes go at least as wide as his mouth. “He’s okay, but he seems to be a little confused. Seta-san can’t leave the school unattended for his own safety, so if you wouldn’t mind…?”

“Yeah, I’ll – I’ll be right there.”

He hung up. His parents were still staring at him expectantly.

“I, uh…” he said. Before he could decide otherwise, he stood from the table. “Sorry, I have to go.”

“Is it Souji-kun?” his father asked mildly.

“Yeah, something happened at work. He’s –“ He stopped, registering after a moment’s pause the meaningful look his parents had just exchanged after his confirmation. “Hey, it’s not like that!” he swore. “He has a concussion or something. It’s serious!”

His mother shook her head. “You can’t keep going to see him, Yosuke. If you’re serious about this, you’ll have to cut yourself off from him eventually. You need boundaries.”

“We’re still friends, Mom. We’re allowed to see each other. And I’m definitely allowed to pick him up at work when he _has a concussion_.”

“You’re going to disappoint him,” said his mother, in that infuriating _I know best_ sort of tone he guessed mothers just innately knew how to adopt. “Be careful, won’t you? Souji-kun’s a good boy.”

Yosuke stood beside the table, speechless for what felt like forever. _Seriously?_ he wanted to say. _You wait until_ now _to decide that Souji wasn’t such a bad guy? You couldn’t have thought that all along, so that maybe this never would have—_

“I’m going,” said Yosuke. “I’ll tell him you said hi.”

And so he pulled on his coat and shoes and trudged out the door, still not entirely convinced it was what he really wanted, but encouraged as always by his parents’ disapproval that it was the right thing to do anyway.

 

***

Souji was sitting on the edge of the bed in Yasogami’s infirmary when Yosuke arrived. The nurse was busy passing a small light back and forth in front of his eyes, and Souji appeared to be following it to the best of his ability. Yosuke quietly let out a pent-up breath of relief at the sight of him. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting – what the hell happened to someone with a concussion anyway? – but seeing him awake and sitting up under his own power was a good thing.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe he could get away with just a brief appearance – _hey, sorry you bumped your head, you seem to be all right now, well, I’ll send flowers, good seeing you_. But, no, Souji wasn’t allowed to leave alone. He’d have to walk him home. And that was going to be all kinds of painful and awkward, but what else could he do?

Besides – now that Souji noticed his presence and looked at him directly, he suspected things weren’t as okay as they’d first appeared. He was a pretty pale guy to begin with, but now he just looked plain sickly, his face taut and bloodless and frighteningly vacant. Yosuke offered a tight-lipped smile and a meek little wave that he managed to turn into scratching the back of his head when Souji didn’t respond.

“You didn’t have to come…” said Souji, watching the nurse jot some notes down on her clipboard.

“He did, actually,” said the nurse. “The next twenty-four hours will be important in determining the progress of your recovery. It would be best if you didn’t spend them alone, Seta-san.”

“Oh…”

“So, uh… what happened, exactly?” asked Yosuke, taking a few cautious steps closer into the room.

Souji shrugged, slightly and slowly, like moving his shoulders required tremendous effort. Yosuke had thought he’d be afraid to even look at Souji during this visit, but now he found he couldn’t look _away_ – something was seriously wrong with him. He hadn’t even been this messed up during their meeting yesterday. What the hell had happened to him since then? “Not sure. Some of the other teachers found me on the floor, so they think I hit my head on my desk. Don’t really remember much about it...”

“What do you mean, you don’t –“ Yosuke turned to the nurse, voice rising in alarm. “Is he serious?”

“Some post-traumatic memory loss is normal,” she assured him. “Especially of the impact itself. It’ll come back to him. Now listen carefully – he needs rest, but when he goes to sleep tonight, make sure you wake him every two or three hours. Talk to him, ask him questions. If he still seems confused or starts getting headaches, then he needs to go the hospital immediately. Understood?”

“Yeah, um…” Yosuke looked back to Souji, who was staring very hard at the floor in the space between his feet. “But I…”

The nurse evidently didn’t hear him, as she didn’t turn back on her way out the door. When she’d closed it behind her and sealed them inside together, Yosuke couldn’t bring himself to finish his objection – not when Souji was the one he’d be speaking it to.

“It’s okay,” said Souji, without raising his head. “Teddie will be with me. You don’t have to stay at the apartment.”

Yosuke crossed his arms, feeling defensive and uncomfortable. He didn’t want to go back there, if he could help it. Taking Souji home was one thing, but he knew what would happen if he ended up staying the night: even if he insisted on taking the couch at first, joining Souji in his bed would be too easy and familiar a scenario to avoid. Souji would probably ask him to – maybe not in so many words, and maybe not right away, but he’d probably do it during the night, when Yosuke went into his room to wake him and talk with him, and Yosuke wasn’t sure he’d be able to say no. They hadn’t had a chance yet to set any firm boundaries with each other, and now that Souji was injured it wasn’t going to get done any time soon. He was loath to admit it, but his mother had been right – what he was doing was dangerous, and he couldn’t afford to be careless about it. “Is it okay with you if I don’t?” he asked.

Souji’s nod was barely perceptible. He slumped so far forward that his head was well on its way to touching his knees; boneless, like a ragdoll. Yosuke flexed his fingers to give his hands something to do as he tried to figure out where things were supposed to go from here. But Souji spared him that discomfort, too. “I was lying,” he said.

Yosuke frowned. “Lying about what?”

“About not remembering what happened. I do. They wouldn’t believe me if I told them…”

Of course. Trust Souji to know what behaviour to fake in situations like these. “So?” he prompted. “What happened, then?”

“They’re gone.” Souji whined faintly and leaned down even further, hiding his face in his hands. “They’re gone. They’re all gone…”

Oh man. The person on the phone _had_ said Souji was a little confused, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for this. He’d never known Souji to be outwardly anything but clear and concise and sure, even when he was hurting, even when he really wasn’t any of those things at all. Souji vulnerable was something he’d adjusted to during the natural course of their relationship – but Souji unravelled just never got any easier to see.

“Who’s all gone?” he asked warily, not certain he wanted to know the answer.

“Yomotsu-Shikome,” Souji said into his hands. “Obariyon. Legion. Ose. Black Frost…”

Yosuke froze. Oh _shit_.

“Decarabia. Shiki-Ouji. Pixie. Orobas…”

“Shit… Oh shit, Souji, are you serious?”

Souji nodded.

“ _All_ of them?”

“I think… I don’t –“ Souji straightened his back a little and raised his hands toward his ears, like if he covered them he might be able to listen hard enough to hear what was happening inside him. Not that it would do him any good, Yosuke thought miserably. He knew that much, by now. “Izanagi’s there. And – maybe… I don’t know, I can’t…”

“All right, calm down,” said Yosuke, raking a hand through his hair nervously. “Maybe it’s… you know, just temporary. Maybe when you hit your head, you—“

“I didn’t hit my head!” Souji snapped.

“Uh… yeah, actually, you did.” Yosuke gestured to his own forehead, just above his right eyebrow. “There’s like a… giant red mark right there.”

Souji moved his hand to his forehead, feeling his way over the area, and paused when he encountered the slightly raised bump with his fingertips. “Oh,” he said quietly. “Sorry... I thought they just said that because they didn’t know what happened.”

“Concussions don’t happen spontaneously, I don’t think.”

Souji didn’t respond. Yosuke dared to move closer and sat down on the edge of the bed, leaving a respectable gap between them that he wouldn’t have before, but it was still better than keeping his distance entirely. However, he stopped short of resting a hand on his shoulder or touching him or leaning in to inspect the mark on his forehead – _boundaries, Yosuke. For him, and for you_.

“I’m sorry, man,” Yosuke said softly. “I wish I knew what to do. Obviously I haven’t had much luck with Susano-O, but… damn. All of them?”

“Yeah…”

“Just from hitting your head?”

Souji looked up then, turned his head toward him and stared with tired, bloodshot eyes that were – to Yosuke’s surprise – somehow as intense and determined as they were exhausted. “No,” he said. “It was Takahashi.”

He leaned closer despite himself, convinced he hadn’t heard Souji correctly. “Wait – it was _who_?”

“Takahashi. I was sitting at my desk when Takahashi came in, and…”

By the time he had finished recounting the story, Yosuke was so angry he was clutching the bed sheets in tight, shaking fists, his nervousness and discomfort entirely forgotten.

“That son of a _bitch_ ,” he spat. “ _He’s_ the one responsible for Susano-O going haywire?”

“Yeah,” said Souji. “…And no. He said… we could have stopped it, but we didn’t.”

“Fuck that! That’s not fair – he can’t just screw around with us like this and expect to get away with it!”

Souji didn’t say anything. He stared at the floor again, seemingly having lost what little energy he’d mustered to speak about what had happened. Yosuke’s angry scowl faded into a look of disbelief.

“We _are_ going after him,” said Yosuke. “Aren’t we?”

“I don’t know, Yosuke…”

“What do you _mean_ , you don’t know?!” Yosuke shouted, his voice trembling with rage. Souji flinched and looked away. “After everything that bastard put me through? Put _us_ through?! We have to do this!”

“I know, but…”

“But _what_?”

“I don’t know _how._ ”

That admission seemed to drain the rest of the life out of him. He covered his face with one hand, and bent as though that one hand was the only thing keeping him upright. Yosuke couldn’t continue the argument, realizing now what it was he was actually arguing for. Souji’s Personas were gone; he couldn’t fight in this condition. He still had Izanagi, but Izanagi wasn’t like Susano-O or any of their friends’ Personas, the ones that had grown and strengthened and eventually changed. Izanagi alone wasn’t enough.

Yosuke recalled Souji explaining it to him once, that yes, he had more Personas than even he could keep track of, but Izanagi alone was his _true_ other self, and his true self wasn’t built for serious fighting; that’s what the others were for. Yosuke hadn’t really understood at the time – if a Persona is your other self, how could one be more _real_ than the others? – but he thought he understood it better now. In the other world, Souji was capable of wielding terrifying power, but in this one, he was uncommonly kind – a mediator, a reconciler, using only as much force as was necessary to resolve conflict without encouraging it, and Izanagi’s relative weakness to that of his other Personas reflected that gentle nature. He didn’t stand a chance in the other world now. Maybe he did once, but not against the stronger shadows they’d grown used to facing, and certainly not against someone who possessed the kind of power it seemed Takahashi had kept hidden from them.

His fighting days were over, and Yosuke understood the fear and anger that accompanied such a realization all too well.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing. You need to rest. Look, let’s just… get you home for now, okay? Worry about the rest of it when you’re feeling better.”

Souji nodded, and allowed Yosuke to help him to his feet. It was slow going, but the two of them made their way back across town to their – Souji’s – _Souji’s_ apartment without much more of an incident than Souji tripping over a rut in the pavement on the floodplain. And when they went inside and found that Teddie wasn’t home, Yosuke figured it couldn’t hurt to stay a little longer, just until he got back. They were still friends, after all, and Souji needed a friend’s support – especially from one who understood better than anyone what was happening to him.

Besides, he had to admit that after so many years of Souji trying to protect him, it felt kind of _good_ to be needed like that. It had been a long, long time since he’d gotten to play the hero to anybody, much less to Souji. __

_***_

 _?? ?? ????_

 _  
The car isn’t moving. There’s no lights, no engine noise, no tires treading pavement, no lurch of forward motion. Souji leans out of his seat, pressing his face against the window. Fog, as far as he can see._

 _There’s no one else here. The darkness and silence of the limousine’s interior is sad and lonely in an eerie sort of way, and he tugs once on the door handle in an attempt to escape into the open air outside. It doesn’t budge. He tries again, applying force with his shoulder to no effect. Defeated, he slumps back into the soft velvet seat and waits._

 _There’s a book opposite him on the table. He can’t stand up in the small amount of space available, so he crouches low and moves to the other seat so he can examine it more closely. He runs his hand along the rough expanse of the cover. It’s huge and thick and leather-bound – the one Margaret keeps with her._

 _It’s lighter than it looks._

 _He opens it somewhere near the middle to a blank page. He peers closer in the darkness, in case there’s something written there in light ink that he can’t read, but there’s nothing to see. He flips the page over; nothing on the other side, and nothing on the next one either. Frustrated, he shuts the book completely and starts from page one._   
__

_There’s a depiction of Izanagi there. Souji stares at it for a moment, arrested by the image of his other self, appearing so much stronger than he feels – or for that matter, stronger than Izanagi himself really is. On the other side of the page, there are notes about Izanagi’s strengths_ (electricity, obviously) _and weaknesses_ (wind, of course, he’s always been his weakness – the entire reason he’d first called on Izanagi was to protect him) _. There’s a short paragraph written there as well:_ One of the ancient gods who existed before Japan was formed. He created the Ouyashima from chaos, then gave birth to countless children and laid the foundation of soil and nature. __

 _Souji looks it over again, but there’s no mention of Izanami anywhere._

 _He flips through several more empty pages, slowly at first, and then quickly and carelessly as he realizes Izanagi is the only Persona recorded in the Compendium. None of the others are left. Not one. All the work he’s done, all the things he’s learned, all the things other people have helped him learn about himself – obliterated, all of it._

 _He reaches the end, the final blank page, and then starts working back toward the front in a panic. Nothing, nothing, nothing –_

 _He pauses. Something a few pages back had caught his eye, so he flips back to it. He brings the Compendium closer to his face, takes it to the window and tilts it in an attempt to catch some tiny flash of light from outside. There’s something there, but he can’t quite tell what it is. It could have been a light stain covering the page, almost invisible, the details of its shape indistinct. He flips through the pages more carefully this time, and finds more than a dozen others like it, but nothing as clear as Izanagi._

 _“They’re still there, you know,” says Margaret. Souji looks up at her, startled and guilty at having been caught sitting in her seat and looking through her property, but she doesn’t chastise him. She’s sitting where he usually does, and she’s smiling politely. “Some of them, at least. She took so many away, but there are parts of you now that no one can touch or destroy. Not even a god. Not even_ you _. Do you know why?”_

 _“She said… it was because I had faced difficult truths.”_

 _Margaret’s faint smile widens. “She’s right. You faced your other self, and accepted it fully. Izanagi is a part of you that can no longer be erased, as long as you live. And there are others.”_

 _“Which others?”_

 _“Which do you think?”_

 _Souji runs his hands over the blank pages of the Compendium. “I can’t see them here anymore… and I can’t feel them, either. I can’t tell…”_

 _“Your bonds with other people have led to remarkable ends – both for them and for you. While you were helping them face their own selves, were they not helping you to face yours? Did you not gain a greater understanding of yourself and your world through your bonds with them?”_

 _“Those ones, then? Mada and the others?”_

 _“They’re representations of your bonds with other people. Whether those bonds are positive or negative doesn’t matter – for good or ill, you can’t unmake them, and you’ll feel their effects for the rest of your life. But though they’re still with you, they suffered her assault as the others did; it may take time for them to recover from the contact with her. They may need to be reminded of who they are.”_

 _Even as she speaks, he can feel something stir inside him – just a ripple, nothing more, but it’s a soothing, familiar sensation. He looks down. The shape on the page is a little darker, a little clearer now, and if he squints he can make out the number below the picture: III._ Isis _, he remembers, though the details of her figure remain indistinguishable. Souji smiles, closes the Compendium, and sets it down on the table._

 _“Do you intend to face her?” Margaret asks, tilting her head curiously._

 _The prospect terrifies him. Not since his uncle’s death has he felt so powerless. But he thinks that maybe he can do it, if he doesn’t have to do it alone. “Yes,” he says, although the statement is far from firm. “I have to.”_

 _“No, you don’t,” says Margaret, still smiling. “But that’s what makes your decision the right one. Maybe you can make use of this, after all.”_

 _A small, dull light appears, hanging in the dark space between them. It moves closer to him, and Souji sees that it’s an object, an odd-looking orb, and he reaches out his hand to touch it._

 _“That is a crystal of power you have nurtured throughout your journey,” Margaret tells him. “In its ideal form, it reveals truth and dispels lies, but much of its power still lies dormant. Perhaps you can yet draw out its potential by recalling your own.”_

 _Souji looks into the orb, expecting to see something in its swirling depths, but instead, the dim light suddenly grows and flashes in his eyes and he squints –_

 

 _***_

 _June 5, 2011_

 _He’s made a lot of friends since moving to Inaba, learned many different things about them, but he has to be extra careful with Dojima. It’s only been two months, he doesn’t_ know _him well enough yet to be prodding around in his painful personal issues, and if he pushes too hard, he might find the rest of his stay in Inaba a great deal more uncomfortable than it should be. Maybe Dojima wouldn’t even want him here anymore. He’s probably grateful that Nanako’s still too young to be asking too many prodding questions yet, and he doesn’t need Souji to fill that role years too early, before he’s ready._

 _When Souji comes down the stairs that Sunday morning, he pauses at the bottom and locks eyes with his uncle, who’s sitting at the kitchen table. It’s exactly where he’d left him last night after Dojima had sent him to bed, after Souji had wrung from him the truth of those photocopied newspaper articles that had littered the table and are now nowhere in sight._

 __That’s all I can say about it in this house. __

 _Souji swallows nervously. He knows that what he should do is sit down at the table, right where he did last night, and talk to him. About Nanako’s mother, about those newspaper copies, about the weather or breakfast or school or_ anything _. Just sit down. Just talk to him._

 _But his phone rings before he can muster up the courage to do it. It’s Yosuke, inviting him out for the day, and he can’t say “yes” fast enough. Not because he can recognize that pleasing flutter in his stomach for what it is – that doesn’t happen for a while yet – but simply because he doesn’t want to spend an awkward day alone with his uncle._

 _He’s not the adult here. He’s not the one who should be comforting, the one who should be steady and strong while his uncle unravels. It doesn’t fit right. Maybe it will later, when Souji settles into the house more comfortably and adjusts to living with this family that’s his, but not his, not really._

 _But not now._

 _“Be careful,” Dojima says, as he’s on his way out the door, and he sounds so tired, so downright lonely, that Souji pauses and considers calling Yosuke back to cancel._

 _But he doesn’t._

 _There’s plenty of time, he tells himself as he shuts the door behind him. He’s here until March. ___

__***_ _ __August 31, 2011_ _

_  
“Remember, we’re going to the beach next year. You promised!”_

 _He blinks and he’s standing exactly where he had been just a moment ago, but almost three months have passed. He and Nanako are saying goodbye to Yosuke, who’s tying his shoes by the door; he’s leaning against the refrigerator, and Nanako’s leaning out into the porch, unwilling to step out without her shoes on. Dojima is in the back yard, smoking a cigarette and picking at a leftover slice of watermelon._

 _He’d gotten that look on his face as everyone was leaving, like he’d wanted to talk. Souji thinks that maybe if he stays out here with Nanako and Yosuke long enough, he’ll forget about it._

 _“Don’t worry, Nanako-chan,” says Yosuke sincerely, “I won’t forget. And I’ll make sure this guy won’t, either!”_

 _She looks up at him and Souji smiles and promises her, “I won’t forget.”_

 _Nanako launches herself at him and hugs him around the waist. “You’ll really come back next year? No matter what?”_

 _He’s about to give a hedging sort of answer that if his parents are okay with it and he can get away for a week or so, he’ll be back – but as he so often does, Yosuke gets there first and answers for him._

 _“Of course he will!” Yosuke says cheerfully. “He’ll always come back. I mean, how could he stay away? He’s got us, right?”_ __

_The way Yosuke smiles at him in that moment makes Souji’s breath catch. It’s still not the moment he realizes the nature of his unusually strong feelings for his friend, but it is the moment when he stops thinking of Inaba as a distraction, as a place to endure and wait for his parents to decide he can come home again. It’s the moment he starts thinking to himself that maybe he doesn’t want to leave, and if he’s not yet capable of understanding why, that’s okay. That’ll come later._

 _“No matter what,” is what he finds himself promising instead, and the words fit in his mouth so well that he can’t imagine promising anything less._

 

 _***_

 _November 29, 2011_

 _  
It finally occurs to him somewhere in the early hours of the morning that he’s probably in love with Yosuke. It’s such an absurd idea that he thinks he must have just woken from some half-remembered dream about it, but there it is, taking up all the space at the forefront of his mind and leaving him nothing else to think about. It’s the kind of idea that takes infectious root the very second it flares to life, and he wastes several hours that morning retracing the steps of their friendship in light of this new knowledge as he flits in and out of wakefulness._

 _It might be a little easier to accept if Yosuke weren’t currently sharing his futon, sleeping only inches away. Souji’s hands and legs suddenly feel self-consciously heavy and awkward; he’s hyper-aware of where their knees slightly touch, of how close their hands are, of how loud his heartbeat sounds to him. There’s no reason to be nervous – Yosuke isn’t the perceptive type even when he’s awake – but he is. He’s so afraid of what this might mean for them and what it might do to their friendship if he ever let it slip that he can barely stand to think about the potential consequences. Yosuke has been with him from the start, has supported him in everything he’s done as leader of their team, and Souji doesn’t know what he would do without that support._

 _Their bond is steadfast, unbreakable – but still very much capable of change. It would happen so fast, so subtly that he wouldn’t be able to stop it. Souji would say something, or do something_ (he wonders what that would be like, and his eyes accidentally fall on Yosuke’s lips before he can stop himself) _and then Yosuke would retreat and put up a wall. Sure, they could still be friends. Yosuke and Kanji are still friends, despite Kanji’s temper and Yosuke’s repeated jabs at their kouhai’s expense. But it would never be the same._

 _They’d probably never share so much as a quiet moment again, much less a futon._

 _And that’s how, scarcely two or three hours after he’s acknowledged his true feelings about his best friend, he pushes them deep down and far away. He’ll face them someday, he tells himself. He won’t ever admit them to Yosuke, but he’ll deal with them eventually, on his own. When this is all over. When Nanako and his uncle are better. When he’s long gone from Inaba, and Yosuke’s ceased to be such a central part of his life._

 _Yosuke eventually stirs, and makes a sleepy, slightly amused face when he sees he’s already awake and watching him. “Dude. You’re so creepy,” he mumbles on Souji’s pillow. And Souji smiles, allowing himself this one last, precious moment with his secret before he shuts it away._

 

 _***_

 _March 20, 2012_

 _He stares bitterly at the letter Nanako had given him that morning, like he can disintegrate it by sheer force of will. He’s incensed; it’s an effort on his part not to tear it to shreds the moment he sees who it’s from. They’ve done their part. Adachi has already stolen a year of his life, of all of their lives: what more can he possibly want from him? He’s getting on a train tomorrow and going back to the city, leaving behind the town and his family and the people he’s come to love. Has he not given enough of his limited time here to this man? Can’t he have this one last day with the people who actually matter?_

 _Yes, he decides, he can. Adachi has had his chance and made his choices. Let him rot in prison for it, alone. He's not his problem anymore._

 _Souji finds his uncle’s cigarette lighter stashed away in his coat pocket, and burns the letter without opening it even once._

 

 _***_ __

_July 1, 2013_

 _“Hey,” says Kazumi. “Who’s this with your sister?”_

 _Souji’s eyes fly open, and he sits up in bed. Kazumi is standing at the desk, naked to the waist, and holding something that Souji realizes with a cold rush of dread is a picture that had been included in his most recent letter from Inaba. It’s of Yosuke and Nanako at the Samegawa; together they’re comically struggling to hold up a fish as big as she is. Souji cursed himself. He’d left in a hurry to meet Kazumi today, and then they’d come back to his dorm afterward and he still hadn’t had time to put it away properly – to hide it, along with all the other indications that Yosuke existed at all. It was careless of him._

 _“A friend from Inaba,” Souji says, surprisingly calmly. “Why?”_

 _Kazumi shrugs, and smiles charmingly at him. “Just curious. He’s cute.” Souji flings a pillow at him, which he dodges with a laugh. “I’m just saying!”_

 _“I’ll be sure to let him know.”_

 _Kazumi sets the picture down, to Souji’s relief. He slides to the edge of the bed, just far enough to get his arms mostly around Kazumi’s waist, and then pulls him closer so he can plant a soft kiss on his exposed hipbone, just above the waistline of his pants. Kazumi hums and rakes an affectionate hand through his hair as he does it. It’s a gentle moment, but also a calculated strategy. Souji doesn’t necessarily want anything from him – it’s getting late and they both have classes in the morning, and anyway they’d kind of already spent the entire evening in bed – but he does want to get him away from the desk. There are pictures and letters he keeps locked up tight in there, memories and longings he doesn’t want anyone ever to see. All things he should throw away, but can’t, despite how hard he’s tried. But he can’t let Kazumi see them, either. He can’t have them both – Kazumi’s not a particularly jealous person, but he still can’t have them both._

 _So he lies._

 _Hands begin to wander; lips leave kisses that are less and less innocent with each iteration, and speak words of affection that grow more and more breathless; and Souji pretends not to know why, if it feels so good, why it is he continues to feel more wretched with each passing day._

 

 _***_

 _?? ?? ????_

 _  
Souji blinks again, and finds that the sudden flash of light from the orb has receded. It’s resting in his hand now, surprisingly heavy and solid in his palm, and the dim light that it emitted before is now noticeably brighter and steadier._

 _“Ah,” says Margaret. “As I thought. There are many truths which you’ve tried to escape, but you still appear to have the potential to face them.”_

 _Souji holds the orb in both hands and looks into it, but it doesn’t show him anything more. It’s just as well – he doesn’t think he can stand to_ see _any more. What Takahashi – Izanami— told him was true after all: he’s had a long history of denying difficult truths and hurting people who did nothing but care for him. His uncle’s problems, the truth Adachi had wanted him to seek, his feelings for Yosuke and what they meant both for their friendship and for his doomed relationship with Kazumi – he’d wiped his hands of all of it. Even with his most recent problems with Yosuke, if he’d only stepped back, took a breath, and admitted that he’d never trusted that Yosuke had accepted his Shadow..._

 _Even his uncle had never stopped searching for his truth, as awful and painful as it was, right up until the day he died. Souji is ashamed that he’s never realized that before now._

 _“Facing these aspects of yourself is not easy,” says Margaret in a warm and sympathetic voice. “There’s no need to be unnecessarily harsh on yourself. But neither must you back down.”_

 _“I made a mistake,” Souji says, gripping the orb tightly. “I’ve made so many mistakes…”_

 _“Sometimes one must fail, in order to want to keep going – in order to draw one’s strength from those failures,” says Margaret._

 _Souji’s head snaps up – he remembers hearing her say that before. Before… when? When was it…?_

 _“Do not allow your mistakes to cloud your judgement or conceal your path. Learn from them, and move on. Everyone who sets foot in this room embarks on a journey to discover their true selves, and I predict that you will be no different.”_

 _“I remember now,” whispers Souji. It comes back to him all at once, his last meeting in the Velvet Room, that rainy Sunday morning he and Nanako and Yosuke had visited the Dojima family grave. “Igor – Igor told me my journey was never completed.”_

 _“No, it wasn’t,” said Margaret. She smiles again, a bright, sunny smile at odds with her dignified composure. “But you’re getting closer.”_

 

 _***_

 _April 19, 2022_

  
“Souji.”

A hand on his shoulder abruptly shook him awake. He woke with a start, heart racing, head and shoulders lifting completely off the mattress. Yosuke stood beside the bed, leaning over him and holding him still, backlit in the dark bedroom by the hallway light so all he could really make out was his outline.

“It’s okay,” said Yosuke. “It’s just me. Still know who I am?”

“Yeah...” Souji sighed, resting his head back down on his pillow. “Yosuke…”

“Know where you are?”

“Home. Bed.”

“And… you remember what happened?”

“You left…”

A small, hurt noise escaped Yosuke in response. He withdrew his hand from Souji’s shoulder, and looked away, and Souji realized too late that he hadn’t been asking about _them_. His voice and brain still thick with sleep, Souji tried to rush out an explanation before Yosuke left again, for good this time.

“I hurt you,” he went on, “and you left. It was me. My fault. I’m sorry…”

“Forget it,” said Yosuke. Cold, resigned, detached, and some strange void inside Souji ached to hear him like that. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you again in a couple of hours.”

“Wait…”

Souji blindly reached for his hand, and caught it at the wrist. Yosuke pulled away until his arm couldn’t stretch any further, and then stopped.

“I’m not letting it go.”

“Souji,” Yosuke sighed deeply. “I’m not sleeping here. I can’t believe you would even ask me to after—“

“Takahashi…”

“What?”

“Takahashi,” Souji repeated. “I’m not going to let him go. He won’t get away with it. We’re going to stop him.”

Yosuke froze on the spot, hovering over him, blocking out the light from the hallway. Souji’s eyes were so heavy he could barely look at him for more than a second at a time, but if he squinted hard enough, he could make out the softness in his face that had replaced his anger. _Different_ , Souji mused to himself, thinking of Margaret’s advice, _but still unbreakable_.

“’We’?” Yosuke asked after a moment. “Are you… asking me to come with you?”

Souji nodded slowly, already halfway back into sleep. Yosuke squeezed his hand. And somewhere inside him, the shadow of what used to be Mada stirred and remembered its name.


	11. Chapter 11

Sleep did nothing to cure his exhaustion, because simple fatigue wasn’t the source.

It was distressing after so many years of that distant, familiar white noise filling his consciousness to suddenly hear nothing instead. Even though his other selves were utterly quiet now – gone, _dead_ , like they’d never existed at all – his head still buzzed like he’d been standing right next to a speaker at one of those awful shows Yosuke had liked to drag him to in the city. He felt _ill_. To hear nothing where before there had been _everything_ filled him with an aching, empty sadness he couldn’t shake, the knowledge of what he’d had and then lost.

Izanagi was the lone spark of light left in the void. Souji had to concentrate hard to find him, but he was there, his voice somehow quiet and far away and little more than an echo. But it wasn’t entirely a void: echoes still needed things to bounce off, and that thought gave Souji a little comfort.

He looked around the bedroom when he woke, without Yosuke’s help this time. It was morning now, two hours since he’d last told Yosuke his name and where he was and that they were definitely going to fight Takahashi. He could hear Teddie talking animatedly from somewhere else in the apartment, but his volume rose and fell strangely at all the wrong points and Souji couldn’t figure out what he was saying. Talking to someone, anyway – maybe to Yosuke.

He lay awake in bed longer than he meant to, trying to work up the nerve to leave his room and face Yosuke now that the social buffer of yesterday’s emergency was gone. Something inside him stirred at the thought - _Mada_ , he remembered, _his name is Mada_ , though for the life of him he couldn’t remember exactly what Mada looked like. He was a vague, dark figure in the back of his mind, nowhere near as strong and bright as Izanagi. But he’d endured, he was there all the same –

 _A part of you that can no longer be erased, as long as you live._

– and that thought gave him a little comfort, too.

Souji heard Yosuke’s voice then, low and soft from somewhere beyond his door, and it was followed by another oddly loud response from Teddie. He almost managed to sit up, almost got out of bed, but he lost his nerve at the last second and then spent another few minutes chastising himself for his cowardice. There was no reason to be afraid. Yosuke knew what it was like to lose those vital parts of himself: his Shadow _and_ his Persona. He would understand. They were the same, now. This was the last, awful thing binding them to each other, something that no one could fix or take away, something

 _no one can touch or destroy. Not even a god. Not even you._

Souji shut his eyes tight and scrubbed hard at his face. No, dammit – he wasn’t going to be _happy_ that they had this terrible thing in common. He had to stop thinking like that. Yosuke might be sympathetic, but he was also leaving soon; he wouldn’t always be around for Souji to rely on, if he even deserved to rely on him at all.

He almost wanted to laugh. It was really just one more stroke of cruelty, for Izanami to have given them this one thing in common after she had laid the groundwork for their coming apart.

It was another five minutes before he worked up the nerve to move. He sat upright, and then groaned and leaned back on his elbows when the sudden movement made the room spin. It was almost enough to convince him he was pushing things too fast, but after a moment he felt like the wave of dizziness had crashed up against Izanagi and broken on his strong, solid presence. He clung to that thought, to his center, to the one constant point that remained in the empty sea inside him, and got out of bed.

Teddie and Yosuke were sitting in the living room together, Yosuke on the couch and Teddie seated quietly at the low table – but it wasn’t a peaceful scene at all. Teddie’s small body was rigid, his hands clenched tightly into fists on the tabletop, and Yosuke’s face was blank and ashen. Both of them immediately turned their attention toward him when he emerged.

“Sensei—” Teddie gasped, scrambling to his feet. “You’re awake! I’m so sorry, Sensei, I went to visit Rise-chan yesterday and when I got back you were –”

Souji braced himself on the doorframe, guarding against the forceful, full-body hug it looked like Teddie was about to inflict on him, but it never happened. Teddie stopped himself a foot away from Souji, his arms still outstretched, his expression of mixed joy and relief sliding away into something shocked and devastated.

“Sensei,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”

Souji locked eyes with Yosuke, who was shrugging helplessly in a distinct _it wasn’t me_ sort of gesture. “I’m fine,” he assured him. “I fell and hit my head at work yesterday, but I’m okay. Yosuke was with me. I’m sorry I worried you.”

Teddie nodded uneasily, and looped his arms around Souji’s waist in an awkward hug. Souji patted him on the head reassuringly. He supposed he should have expected Teddie to realize something had changed inside him; his nose wasn’t as keen in this world as it was in his own, but a shift of that magnitude was probably hard to miss.

“Well, I guess you survived the night after all,” said Yosuke, as he got to his feet. “No need to drag you off to the hospital?”

Souji shook his head. “No. Thanks. I’ll be all right.”

Teddie released him and stepped back, glancing back and forth between them with a serious look. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll stay here with Sensei,” he said to Yosuke, and Souji was surprised to hear the words come out so flatly and bluntly.

“…Okay then,” said Yosuke after an extended pause. “I should, um… I’ll be going, then. Gonna be late for work.”

Souji nodded. He’d expected that Yosuke would try to leave as soon as he could, but it was hard not to be just a little disappointed. He supposed he should get used to that feeling. “Yeah, me too, I guess,” he said.

Yosuke rolled his eyes as he walked past him, into the kitchen and over to the chair where his coat was draped. “Uh, no,” he told him matter-of-factly. “Your boss thinks you fainted, remember? I’ve already called you in sick. You’re not going anywhere until you get more rest and we get our plan figured out.”

“Plan…?” he echoed.

Yosuke paused halfway through getting his coat on, one arm stuck through one sleeve and the other only partway in. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “You said we’re going into the other world, so… I called everyone this morning. We’re meeting back here tonight so we can tell them what happened.”

Souji blinked. “Oh. Yeah, that’s… You already did all that?”

“Yeah, well…” Yosuke finished pulling on his coat and shrugged a little, looking down. “Didn’t sleep much, so I figured I should do something useful. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” said Souji. He felt like he wanted to sleep the entire day away, but admittedly it was nice not to have this one extra thing to worry about. “Yeah, that’s great. Thanks…”

Yosuke offered him a tight smile. “Well… I’ll be back later, then.”

“Okay.”

Teddie waved a silent, sullen goodbye, and then Yosuke was gone. Souji exhaled heavily, both disappointed and relieved in a way that he wasn’t sticking around. He knew better than to think that the tension that had accumulated between them would be unwound in a single night; rest would come easier if he didn’t have to deal with that on top of everything else.

“Sensei,” said Teddie. “Are you really okay?”

Souji looked at him, not sure how to answer, but very much aware of Teddie’s apparently delicate and downtrodden mood. The last thing he wanted to do was worry him – he’d find out later tonight along with the others anyway – so he nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I am.”

Teddie didn’t believe him – he took just a bit too long to smile and announce that he was going to make breakfast, no, really, it was okay, Kanji had shown him how – but he let his evasive answer pass without comment. Souji spent most of the day in bed, thinking that the sooner he felt better for real, the sooner he could stop feeling guilty for lying.

 

***

“Unbelievable,” said Chie, to a confused chorus of agreement from the others.

They had just finished telling them everything that had happened – _everything_ this time, from the truth about Yosuke’s Shadow and their break-up right up to yesterday’s events. Souji sat at the kitchen table, bracing his forehead against his hand and rubbing the bump there absently. His head still hurt from yesterday and despite napping on and off all day he was still completely out of energy, but at least Yosuke had been thoughtful enough to call their emergency meeting in a place that wouldn’t require him to leave the house. All of them were crammed into the kitchen together – Souji at the table, Teddie and Chie to his left and right respectively, Rise opposite him, Naoto and Kanji and Yukiko lining the counters.

Yosuke was near the door, which made Souji a little nervous, but at least he wasn’t looking like he wanted to use it as soon as possible. That had to count for something.

“Let’s not be discouraged,” said Naoto calmly. “It’s unfortunate that this person got the drop on us, but her existence validates our suspicions about the other world. Now that we have this information we must act quickly.”

“Yeah, but…” Yukiko bit her lip. “Souji-kun, your Personas…”

Souji shifted uncomfortably under the combined gaze of his friends. “I’ll be okay,” he assured them. “I’ll need a couple of days to rest and… get used to it. But we’re definitely going.”

“Damn right we’re going,” said Kanji. “Like we’re gonna let her get away with that.”

“How about you, Rise-chan?” Chie asked. “We wouldn’t want to force you into something that might be dangerous…”

“I know,” said Rise with a nod. “Thanks. But I don’t think I can go back and have a family without making sure all of this is put to rest. I want to see this through to the end.”

“Rise-chan’s so brave…” Teddie sighed. “Sensei, too. You lost all your Personas and you still want to fight. That’s so amazing…”

“Hey, what about me?” Yosuke scoffed. “I lost mine, too. Aren’t I brave?”

“That’s different.”

“Hey!”

“Yosuke-san does have a point,” said Naoto thoughtfully, just loud enough to make herself heard over the background noise of Teddie and Yosuke sniping at each other. “Technically we’re down two people. This isn’t going to be easy.”

“I know,” said Souji. “That’s actually what I was hoping to talk to you guys about.”

Yosuke and Teddie quieted down, and everyone looked to him.

“I’m not going to be as free to move around in the other world as I used to be,” he explained. “I still have Izanagi, but without my stronger Personas, I won’t be able to fight as hard anymore. I’m not as strong as I used to be. So we’re all going to have to be extra careful, and… I’ll be counting on all of you even more than I usually would.”

“Don’t worry, man,” said Kanji. “We ain’t stupid. We’ll watch your back.”

“It’s… not actually me I’m worried about.”

“You’re worried about us?” asked Chie. “Because you really don’t need to be, you know? We’ve all still got ours, so – I mean, sorry, Yosuke…”

Yosuke made a non-committal sort of noise and didn’t look at her.

“I think what Chie’s trying to say is that we can handle it,” said Yukiko. “We’ve relied a lot on you in the past, Souji-kun, but you know that we’re more than capable of handling front-line fighting.”

“Yeah,” Kanji agreed. “We’ll bust our way through to that creep no problem. Leave it to us, man.”

“And you’ve got me keeping an eye on you,” added Rise with a wink. “Like I’d let anything happen to you guys.”

It wasn’t what Souji had wanted to say to them at all. But as he looked around the room, looked at each of their brave, determined faces in turn, he couldn’t bring himself to drag them down. He’d need that strength of theirs before this last task was through – that much he was sure of, if nothing else. Best to keep his own insecurities to himself, for the time being.

“Yeah,” he said at last. “I know you guys can handle it. Thanks.”

They made their plans. The next day all of them could meet to explore the other world was Sunday, so they agreed to go to Junes that day and finish what they had started so many years ago. When the plans were settled, they said their goodbyes and trickled out of the apartment one by one, until Yosuke, Teddie, and Souji were the last ones left.

“I’m sorry, Yosuke,” said Teddie a little remorsefully when the three of them were alone. “I didn’t mean it. I think you’re beary brave, too.”

Yosuke shrugged, and Souji suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Everything was okay now, and Yosuke seemed to be letting it roll off his back, but there had been something unpleasantly sincere about Teddie’s earlier slight against him. Teddie had obviously been upset – maybe even angry. Come to think of it, they’d been quarrelling that morning too, hadn’t they?

“Don’t worry about it,” said Yosuke. “Dumb bear. Well, dunno about you guys, but I’m about to drop here, so I’m gonna head back home.” He hesitated a moment, and then added, “Sorry, Souji, I know you’re beat too, but… could you walk with me for a bit?”

The request surprised him, but he nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Let me get my coat.”

They left the apartment and walked down the stairs together, slowly to accommodate the shambling way Souji made his way down the steps. He’d gotten most of the way to the bottom before he had to stop and steady himself, clinging to the railing to prevent another fall. Yosuke waited for him on the last step.

“Sorry,” Souji apologized. “Long day.”

“S’okay.” Yosuke leaned on the rail as he waited, distractedly scratching away at the wood with his thumbnail. “Take your time.”

Souji sat down on the fifth-to-last step, and did just that. It was good to be outside after being cooped up in the apartment all day, as nice as it had been to be tucked safely in bed where his head didn’t swim and Izanagi didn’t complain so much. And on top of that it was good to be actually talking with Yosuke again. A common enemy to fight apparently did a pretty good job of keeping them from fighting with each other.

“So I guess that went over okay? Kinda thought it would get awkward,” said Yosuke with a small, fake laugh. “No one’s really said much about it to me, but I didn’t really know how they’d react to us being in the same room together.”

“Ah,” said Souji. “Well, it’s hard to say. I think they’ll be all right with it until this is dealt with, anyway.”

Yosuke shrugged. “Guess there’s nothing like a good ol’ crisis to bring people together, huh?”

“Guess so.”

Yosuke looked up at something, and Souji followed his gaze just in time to see Teddie shut a curtain in one of the windows. Suddenly, Yosuke’s invitation to leave the apartment made a lot more sense.

“Is Teddie mad at you or something?” Souji asked. “He’s been kind of on edge all day.”

Yosuke snorted. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“What happened?”

“Well, y’know...” Yosuke laughed, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Before you got up this morning he totally flipped on me. Told me it was my fault you got hurt, because looking out for you was supposed to be my job.”

Souji winced. “I’m sorry. He doesn’t really understand what happened with us, I think. He’ll get over it when he sees I’m okay.”

“Yeah…” said Yosuke, though he didn’t sound particularly sure of that. He sounded miserable, in fact, and Souji supposed he wasn’t surprised. He’d been close with both Yosuke and Teddie, but they’d had their own bond that he wasn’t a part of, too. Maybe this wasn’t something he could understand. “Anyway, um... Sorry to drag you out here, but I wanted to ask you something. It’s cool if you don’t want to tell me, but I was kinda wondering about it at work today, so…”

Souji frowned. “What?”

“Well… You were really out of it last night, so I didn’t bother asking then, but… Why’d you change your mind?”

“Hmm?”

“About taking me with you into the TV. Why’d you change your mind?”

Souji thought for a moment. If yesterday hadn’t happened, he knew what his answer would have been: because he wanted Yosuke back more than anything, and giving in to his demands, like he had when he’d chosen not to seek out Adachi, would have been a blatant attempt to get that. But now he had a different answer: a better and, most importantly, more honest one. “Because it’s your fight, too,” he said. “Considering what she did to you, maybe even more yours than mine.”

Yosuke nodded to himself. “I see. And all that stuff you said before, about you – y’know. Coming back alone?”

Souji looked down at his hands clasped together around his knees, embarrassed that Yosuke hadn’t forgotten that. “I don’t know. I guess I’m done trying to be a hero – whether I like it or not.” He risked a glance at him, unsure if he wanted to continue that thought, and Yosuke simply tilted his head curiously in response. So he pressed onward, deciding that even if he hadn’t been able to speak this fear in front of the others, Yosuke had always been something of an exception when it came to showing a weak spot. Even knowing Yosuke no longer wanted that privilege, Souji had finally grown used to _wanting_ him to want it, and that was hard to let go. Despite everything, it was hard not to look at him and think, _This person will understand. When I can’t tell anyone else, I can tell him._ “They were right,” he said. “Chie and Yukiko and Kanji. They can take care of the fighting, but… I already know that. It’s not really the fighting I’m worried about.”

“Then what?” Yosuke asked.

“It’s more like…” Souji sighed, struggling to explain. “No matter what happened before, I always had my Personas to back us up. Yeah, I could fight, but when push came to shove I was always more your _safety net_ than anything. That’s why I was the leader - I took care of you guys. I guess I just… realized that I’m not going to be able to protect any of you in there. That… if it comes down to it, I might not be able to prevent something awful from happening. And I might have to let you go.”

Yosuke didn’t seem to know what to say. He let his gaze fall somewhere in the dead air between the top of Souji’s head and the stairs for several long heartbeats, and remained silent. But he definitely wanted to say _something_ because his throat was already working, his lips already parting to speak the words his brain hadn’t yet decided upon. Souji realized distantly that it wasn’t clear from his wording whether _you_ in this case meant Yosuke alone, or Yosuke and their friends, and he wondered if the reason for Yosuke’s pause was that he was attempting to work out the ambiguity.

Souji himself didn’t even dare to try.

“You won’t have to let anyone go,” said Yosuke at last. “None of us are going to do that to you.”

“You don’t know that…”

“So you’re saying it’s hopeless? That we can’t win?”

“No,” said Souji. “I’m saying that you don’t know that we will. But I’m also saying that I trust you – trust _all_ of you enough to try.”

Yosuke shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped off the last stair onto the ground. “Wish I was half as sure about that as you are,” he muttered.

“Having second thoughts?”

“Ha... Maybe. I can take out a few shadows without Susano-O, no problem, but it’s not like we know exactly what we’re up against here. Could be bad. And… maybe I won’t be able to stop something awful from happening to you guys, either.”

“That’s okay,” said Souji. “Teddie was wrong about that. It’s not your job.”

Yosuke offered no response to that. He let the silence between them stretch until it became tense and grating, and then raised a hand in farewell and started moving toward the street. “I gotta go. See you Sunday if nothing changes, all right?”

Souji nodded and watched him turn and walk off. He wished he could have said something else – something reassuring, some comforting lie, that he knew everything was going to turn out just fine and they would all come out of this changed for the better – but he himself didn’t even believe that.

It wouldn’t be fair to give them false hope just to make himself feel better. __

_***_

 _April 24, 2022_

  
He stood in the Junes lobby, waiting for the elevator that would take him to the rooftop food court where the others were already awaiting his arrival. Souji turned his phone over and over in his hands, nervous in a way he hadn’t been for a long time. Maybe in a way he hadn’t been ever. It was hard not to be. They were walking into what could be the most difficult confrontation they would ever experience in the other world, and – well, why mince words? They were down two fighters. The odds weren’t in their favour.

His phone vibrated in his hand, and he stopped toying with it long enough to check the display. A message from Nanako. _Coming home next week! Can’t wait to see you guys! (‘w ’ )_

His stomach clenched. Yosuke hadn’t told her yet. Not that it mattered, he supposed morbidly: if they didn’t make it back, she’d never have to know at all.

He sent her back a quick reply. _Call you tonight. I love you._ He didn’t give himself enough time to consider deleting it, on the very likely possibility that it could turn out to be a lie. He hit the send key and pocketed his phone, and tried not to think of Nanako off in Iwatodai, waiting for a phone call that might never come.

If he made himself a promise not to lie to her, then maybe that would be enough to carry him through.

Izanagi was ready and anxious, not necessarily to fight, but to defend his friends. The others were still half-formed figures in his mind, but they were getting stronger, bit by bit. He remembered now that Mada had four arms and powerful fire, and this morning he’d remembered Helel’s name, and when he’d done a little sword practice with Chie yesterday, _Futsunushi_ was the word on the tip of his tongue as he’d hefted his weapon in his hand.

There was no way he was going to recover them in time for it to matter, but just knowing they were there comforted him all the same. They – these Personas, these parts of himself, these bonds with his friends – weren’t going anywhere, and that knowledge fuelled his courage.

Maybe what Izanami had done to him and Yosuke wasn’t mere cruelty after all. He’d thought that’s why she’d chosen to administer her lesson by a slow decay, instead of the horrible but relatively quick agony Yosuke’s death would have inflicted on him – but maybe that wasn’t it. She’d framed her actions as part of her _plan_ , like unbalancing Susano-O had simply been _preferable_ to destroying him – but in truth, she hadn’t been capable of destroying him at all. Susano-O could no sooner be erased than Izanagi, or Mada, or Isis, or any of the other shadowy figures hidden away in his consciousness that he was slowly recalling as he reaffirmed his bonds.

It wasn’t the thing she’d _given_ him and Yosuke in common; it was the thing she’d _left_ them. The one thing that belonged to them both that she couldn’t take away.

Somehow that made all the difference to him. No matter what happened to them now, no matter what he did or how determinedly Yosuke tried to sever their connection, it wouldn’t be destroyed. Damaged, changed, frightened away, ravaged until he couldn’t remember what it was supposed to look like anymore – but never destroyed. And the same was true for all of them.

The elevator arrived. He stepped inside and let it carry him away to the rooftop that, for better or worse, would mark the beginning of the end of everything.


	12. Chapter 12

There was no time to prepare. They tumbled out of the televisions, onto the floor of the other world, and the shadows were on them in an instant.

Chie recovered first; for her, martial arts training was both a hobby and a way of life, and it allowed her to roll effortlessly to her feet in one smooth motion. Before most of them had even gotten to their hands and knees she was delivering punishing kicks to the closest of the shadows, the ones with their greedy, grasping hands already reaching for them. Her quick and powerful attacks gave them enough time to recover from their less-than-spectacular entrance into the TV world, and then they were on their feet and ready to join the fight.

It was all just a flurry of unsophisticated motion at first. Yukiko flew to Chie’s side and summoned Amaterasu, and everything on their side of the backlot was awash in scorching flames. Some of the shadows sent the fire rebounding back at them, but Yukiko stood in front of Chie and swept out her fan, and the flames dissipated before her, sending hot flecks every which way. Next to them, Kanji hefted his shield and hurled it into the nearest shadow, utterly destroying it, and Naoto lined up the one behind that in the sights of her pistol and fired several terrifyingly precise shots that drove it off. Teddie was back in his suit – kindly repaired by Kanji – and flinging ice spells one after another into the mass of shadows that had previously driven him out of his home. And Yosuke was beside him, movements quick and knives flashing, driven by the inaudible beat from his headphones – and by the need to prove that he was as capable now as he ever was.

Souji hadn’t needed to issue a single order. They took it upon themselves to act, to protect each other, and although the result was an uncoordinated mess, it felt right.

Behind him, tucked against the side of the television stack with Kanzeon’s visor covering her eyes, Rise grabbed him by the elbow. “There,” she said, pointing at an opening between Kanji and Teddie. “That shadow there, it’s weak to electricity. So’s that one to its left. Go get ‘em!”

Souji nodded and strode into the fray, and summoned Izanagi. His Persona cast his rather unimpressive magic toward the two shadows Rise had indicated, but the strength of the attacks themselves wasn’t what mattered. The creatures were knocked off balance by the electricity, and Kanji’s shield made short work of them thereafter.

With all of them working together they eventually cleared the area. While Rise and Teddie stood watch for more shadows approaching, Yukiko handled the healing and Souji made sure everyone had made it through the first wave okay.

“Not a bad warm-up!” said Chie, bouncing from one foot to the other. “That wasn’t so hard.”

“We’re just getting started,” Souji reminded her. “We don’t know what the shadows will be like once we get closer to Izanami, so keep your guard up.”

“No problem, leader!”

After making sure Kanji was all right – he noticed with some concern that Yukiko was being extra careful and tending to a long gash across his shoulder – Souji saw that Yosuke was breathing heavily and turned to him with a worried frown. “You okay?”

Yosuke was turned half-away from him, but not quite far enough to hide the hand clutching at his chest. He adjusted his glasses – a prescription pair Teddie had made him specially after they’d chased Nanako into this world years ago – and nodded. “Yeah. It’s just a little weird not being able to call Susano-O. Feels kinda heavy, somehow. I’m fine.”

“If it gets too bad, just –“

“I said I’m _fine_.” He huffed, looked away, and then muttered an almost embarrassed, “…Thanks.”

“…Yeah.” Souji backed off before that conversation had a chance to become ugly, and looked to the others. “As soon as you guys are ready we’ll go.”

“Ready as we’re ever gonna be,” said Kanji, stretching out his shoulder. “Let’s do this.”

Rise pointed out the way to go, and they set off. They travelled closer together than they normally would, highly aware of the increased danger, and it was only when they encountered shadows along the way that Souji gave the order to spread out so their attacks wouldn’t end up hitting each other. Usually, Souji liked to keep them in smaller groups of four – one team to be on rescue detail and the other to keep an eye on their escape route outside – but that wasn’t an option this time. Rise didn’t fight, and he and Yosuke weren’t anywhere near as strong as they used to be. Given the circumstances, splitting up wouldn’t be the wisest strategy. So they moved together like migrating birds, with the leader switching out every so often so they wouldn’t be tired out too soon by the stress of straining to see through the fog for danger.

Aside from the swarm that had overtaken the entrance hall, there weren’t too many shadows prowling about the steel walkways that made up this lonely part of the TV world. He supposed it made sense, really: the shadows had never strayed far from their respective homes before, and had certainly never dared to venture out into the space between the areas created by the Midnight Channel victims, and though many had made a push toward escaping into the human world, he was relieved to discover that most had been left behind where they belonged.

There were exceptions, of course. There were always exceptions.

“We’re getting close, guys,” said Rise after almost an hour of walking. “See those torii gates? …Well, no, you probably can’t. But that’s where Izanami is. Just a bit – Naoto-kun, watch out!”

Naoto half-turned around from her position at the head of the group, but before Rise could explain, the shadow’s hand was already fixed around her leg. It was hiding beneath the metal walkway, and probably meant to pull itself up over the side using her as leverage, but it yanked so hard that she was pulled off her feet with a startled cry and dragged dangerously close to the foggy edge. Kanji and Yukiko, closest to her in the cramped and narrow walkway, dove for her and seized her by the arms to prevent her from slipping over the side as she bashed at the shadow with the butt of her gun to make it let go. Souji joined the others in making a human chain of sorts as Yosuke grabbed Kanji’s arm and Chie grabbed Yukiko’s and they all worked together to pull Naoto free from the shadow’s grasp.

Naoto finally nailed the shadow on the head hard enough to startle it into letting go, and she scrambled backward on the metal plating to safety.

“It’s not dead,” she panted. “Be on your guard.”

“Sensei!”

Souji turned around. The shadow had gone under the walkway and come up behind them, and it was transforming as it pulled itself up onto the platform. Like he’d seen the shadows in this world’s version of the shopping district do ages ago, this one twisted and warped itself from the generic black, wiry-armed mass into something else, something huge that barely fit in the confined space – a Jotun, the grotesque figure perched upon its rocking horse. Souji cursed, and motioned for everyone behind him to get moving.

“Can’t fight here,” he called out. “Just run!”

But there was nowhere _to_ run; the Jotun blocked the way they had come and the walkway continued on into the fog in a straight line. They turned and fled, but they were still on the shadow’s line of attack – there was nowhere to take cover, and no way to avoid the powerful burst of wind that whipped toward them when it struck.

While the others shouted and staggered under the assault, they were at least able to remain standing; conversely, it took only a second of exposure to Izanagi’s weakness to leave Souji dizzy and breathless and shaking on the ground. A sharp cry went up when he went down, a collective jumble of shouting and cursing and Rise pleading for someone to help him. “Everyone, down!” he heard Yukiko yell, and when they all ducked and covered their heads she blasted the shadow with fire as it swiftly bore down on him. The resulting explosion slowed the thing, but didn’t deter it. Souji heaved for breath and dragged himself to his knees, tried and honestly had to _struggle_ to lift his sword to guard himself, it was suddenly so heavy. The shadow recovered with an enraged, guttural cry, and gathered itself for another strike –

And then suddenly Yosuke was in front of him – and unlike Souji, he wasn’t guarding. He just stood there, hands at his sides, clutching knives with white-knuckled fists while Rise screamed at him to move and the blood froze in Souji’s veins. Yosuke was going to take a hit he wasn’t built to handle anymore. If no one did something – if _he_ didn’t do something –

Panicking, moving on pure adrenaline without any thought, Souji lunged forward on one knee and thrust his sword out past Yosuke’s side and up. When the Jotun fell on them a half-second later, it impaled itself on the blade with a sickening squelching noise, and Yosuke stumbled backward and tripped over Souji, falling safely out of the creature’s range.

The Jotun dissolved around Souji’s blade when it died, and the danger was past.

Rise made a choked noise of relief. The others looked on in shocked silence, horrified at the disaster they had almost witnessed. And Souji turned to Yosuke, who was looking dumbstruck and weakly pulling himself to a sitting position, and demanded, “What the hell was _that_?”

“Sorry.”

“What the hell were you trying to do?”

Yosuke flinched, and glared at him. “What’d it _look_ like?” he snapped.

Defensive; lashing out to protect himself. Something hadn’t gone the way he’d anticipated, and he was ashamed of it. But Souji was shaken and angry at himself for getting knocked down to begin with, and he didn’t give a damn what his reasons were right then. “From here it kind of looked like you were trying to kill yourself.”

“Oh, _fuck off_ , Souji.”

Souji scowled and moved to get to his feet, wanting to just walk away and not get into an argument about it, but the sudden motion must have startled Yosuke in his already-volatile state. He grabbed at Souji’s shoulder in reflex, shoving him back a little to keep him at arm’s length, and Souji batted his hand away without thinking, which caused Yosuke to grab him again. They both stood up, hands fisted in each other’s shirts and inches away from exploding, if only both of them hadn’t been so tired.

“Okay!” Chie cried, as she forced her way in between them and pushed them apart. “Cut it out, guys! Now’s not the time!”

Yosuke glowered at him over the top of Chie’s head. He wasn’t stupid enough to try and shove her aside, but nor did it appear he was going to let her presence interrupt them. “What’s your problem, anyway? You were just about to bite it, y’know, and you’re telling me you didn’t want my help? Yeah - which one of us is suicidal, again?”

“You’re the one who wanted to fight, Yosuke,” Souji reminded him, emphasizing his point by jabbing his finger hard into his shoulder. Chie kept her back to Yosuke and pushed on Souji’s chest to keep him away, to his disappointment; she didn’t like to take sides, but her physical defense of Yosuke was probably a good indication of who she’d be siding with if push came to shove. “You want to protect us? Fine – but you’re going to have to actually _fight_. None of this human shield bullshit, or you’re going home.”

“I was trying to summon Susano-O.”

“You don’t _have_ Susano-O!”

“Yes I do! He’s _in_ there, I just—” Yosuke’s voice broke, and he cut himself off with an angry scoff. “Whatever. Forget it. You’re right as usual, _leader_.”

He pushed his way past Chie and banged his shoulder against Souji’s aggressively as he stalked off to the front of the group. Souji bristled at the childish and challenging gesture, but let him go; if their uneasy truce was going to dissolve, then keeping their distance from one another was probably for the best, for the sake of getting through this mission alive. Chie gave him an apologetic shrug before hurrying to catch up with Yosuke.

“Souji-kun, are you all right?” Yukiko asked. “You took a pretty bad hit. Here, stand still…”

Souji did as she instructed, and leaned on the walkway railing as Amaterasu appeared and soothed his weariness. With nothing to do but wait while his bones stopped aching, he watched Teddie try to do the same for Yosuke, who shrugged him off.

“I’m not hurt, Ted,” said Yosuke, or at least that’s what Souji thought he’d said. He had to strain to hear him over the distance between them and the low murmurs of Rise, Kanji, and Naoto talking quietly amongst themselves. “You don’t have to.”

The three of them were further ahead down the walkway; Yosuke with his back turned, and Teddie and Chie flanking him, each with a comforting hand on his back. Souji was just beginning to wonder when Teddie had decided that he wasn’t mad at Yosuke anymore when he overheard him say, “That was really brave, Yosuke. You must have really wanted to protect Sensei…”

If Yosuke responded to that, Souji couldn’t hear him. Chie glanced back in his direction, and he had to look away and pretend that their eyes meeting had been a coincidence.

“Feel better?” Yukiko asked when Amaterasu had faded.

“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks. Izanagi really leaves me open, having a weakness like that.”

“I know what that shadow feels like now,” said Rise. “If I sense any others like it, I’ll let you know. We won’t let it get the drop on us again.”

“Thanks, Rise.”

“You’re welcome. But…” She bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t you think maybe you were a little hard on Yosuke-kun…?”

“I’d rather hurt his feelings than bury him,” said Souji bluntly. “That goes for all of you. When you’re ready, let’s keep moving.”

Teddie took over navigating since he was already at the head of the group with Yosuke and Chie, and they set off again together into the fog. Conversation sank below even the cautious minimum as they walked, but Souji was determined to put the incident out of his mind until they were done. He wouldn’t deny that maybe Rise had a point – maybe he _had_ been too hard on Yosuke for trying to protect him, for simply doing what he’d always done – but he couldn’t afford to be soft, either.

If the rest of them learned from Yosuke’s example and thought twice about jumping in front of him, so much the better.

Soon after, they stood outside the imposing torii gates together, gathering their wits and their supplies and exchanging last-minute words of encouragement. What they knew about Izanami had been passed down from legend – and there was no telling how reliable that knowledge actually was – but neither Teddie nor Rise had needed much to go on in order to find this new area. Even Souji could feel it, this close: the air in this world was electrified, crackling with a strange energy that hadn’t been present before. Izanami was beyond those gates, waiting for them, and she was making her presence known. She was _inviting_ them.

And she was inviting Souji, in particular. Izanagi was restless, half anxious to fight, half desperate to run away, and that inner conflict resulted in an odd, twisting, _pulling_ sensation now that they’d arrived at their destination. Izanagi had been here, a long time ago, and he had no desire to ever return.

But he was Souji, and Souji was him, and Souji had decided that they would face this, no matter how painful it might be.

 

***

“Wh-what is this place?” Rise asked when they’d passed through the gates and stopped long enough for her to try and get a reading on what lay ahead of them. “It doesn’t feel anything like the other areas…”

Naoto frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Whenever we’d go in to rescue someone, I could sense their restless heart, and how unstable it felt… But there’s none of that here. Does this Izanami person not have a heart or something…?”

As they progressed through the first floor, Souji discovered that he knew what she meant. There was something strangely empty about this new area, but it was a sinister sort of emptiness. The endless tiled pathways and twisting corridors were unlike any of the other areas they’d explored in the past; the dead ends and meandering passages were essentially the same, but the atmosphere was entirely different. Before, they had pushed through the dungeons at a frantic pace fuelled by terror and sheer adrenaline, with the heavy responsibility of saving someone’s life resting on their shoulders. Those places had throbbed with a primal sort of energy, created as they were from the deepest and darkest parts of the human heart – but this place was different. Their pace through the cold, greyed-out hallways was notably less hurried, partly due to caution, but mostly because it was hard to move with any energy or enthusiasm here. There was _sadness_ in this place, a heavy, lonely, angry sadness that resonated with them and slowed them down, even when Izanami’s voice called out to them and urged them deeper into the fog.

Heaven had been different, too – oddly soothing, even if Souji had been too sick with worry for Nanako to be capable of appreciating it at the time. The fog in Heaven had looked like it could have been nothing more than clouds, and there had been warm patches of sunlight and peaceful pools of water that probably would have been calming under other circumstances. Here though – the hollow sadness here made him feel like he could lay down on the hard tiles and, without meaning to, fall into a sleep from which he would never wake. Maybe while he was sleeping the sea of fog at the edges of the paths would swell up and take him, carry him away until he couldn’t feel this aching loneliness anymore – or anything else at all. Would that be so bad, really? There would be no more pain, no more fear, no more heartache. Everything would be erased, everything reduced to mindlessness, _a tranquility called peace that will last forever_ , and he...

“C’mon, man,” said Kanji. He thumped Souji hard on the back, and Souji came back to himself, realizing that he had slowed almost to a stop and the others were getting ahead of him. “It’ll be hard to keep an eye on you if you fall behind.”

Souji gave himself a little mental shake, to clear his mind of what surely must have been fog, and nodded. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Kanji waited for him to go ahead, and fell into step behind him. Souji didn’t resent the show of protectiveness; Kanji and the others probably sensed it just like he and Rise did. It would be so easy to become a shadow, in here.

They took the fighting slow and steady, with Rise and Teddie teaming up to provide feedback on the shadows and the changing tide of battle. It was hard; by the time they’d reached the fifth floor Souji’s limbs were aching from the effort of wielding his sword. It had been several years since he’d had to fight for so long, and while Izanagi’s strength was greater than his own, it was far less than that of Seigfried or Yoshitsune or any of the other Personas he’d relied on in the past. The result was that while his friends were still bounding from fight to fight with energy to spare even with having to make up for his weakness, he was lagging, and it bothered him.

But he refused to let that show, because he caught himself sneaking glances at Yosuke after battle and found him to be in even worse shape than he was as they progressed through the floors. It sparked something of their old rivalry he thought they’d settled with their fists as teenagers; if Yosuke could find the strength to continue without any Persona at all, then Souji decided he’d have to do it, too.

They took a break at the end of the seventh floor, in the isolated, enclosed space that housed the doorway to the eighth. According to Rise, Izanami was close, one, maybe two floors away, and Souji decided they should regroup and prepare in case they didn’t get another chance. They scattered across the room to sit on the floor and lean against the walls for a few minutes, while Souji sat on the raised platform in the middle of the room and kept an eye on the door they’d entered through.

Izanagi’s twin urges to fight and to flee were stronger now, harder to push down and ignore; but now that he was calm and resting, Souji realized that his Persona wasn’t the only one feeling like that. It was hard to separate how much of that resolve and fear belonged to him and how much to his Persona – _all of it_ was the right answer for both, he supposed – but he at least knew that Izanagi wasn’t entirely to blame for the tension knotted up in his stomach.

“Yosuke,” Souji said after several minutes of protracted silence, and before he could change his mind. “How are you holding up?”

 _Not well_ was his guess, judging by the way Yosuke was slumped over in the corner of the room, his face pale, his chest heaving with slow, laboured breaths. He looked up with tired eyes at the sound of his name, seemingly surprised at being addressed at all, but when he realized it was Souji who was speaking to him, he dropped his gaze again and ignored him.

There it was again; that twist in his heart that was part resolve that he had done the right thing, and fear of the consequences. Izanagi resonated the same feeling every time Souji thought about proceeding to the next floor; the two of them had never been closer, in a way.

“I wanted to apologize before we…” Souji nodded toward the closed doorway; his stomach clenched like his Persona had tried to burst out of it. “Before we face her. I still wish you hadn’t done that, but I understand you were trying to help. I’m sorry.”

Yosuke met his eyes, and hesitated for a moment before responding – or maybe he was just struggling to gather his breath. “Thanks.”

“No luck with Susano-O?”

“You’ll be the first to know, man…”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Yosuke sighed, leaning his head and the rest of his weary body heavily against the wall. “I just wish I knew what he wanted, y’know? I did _everything_ my damn Shadow wanted me to do and it didn’t get me anywhere. I don’t know what to do anymore…"

“Is that why you jumped in front of me?”

“I thought maybe I could force him out – you know, like maybe he’d come out and protect me if I was trying to protect someone else.” Yosuke laughed, bitterly. “Same as usual though, huh? I try to play the hero and end up having to be rescued instead. Figures.”

Souji frowned, surprised by his tone of voice. He wasn’t surprised at the sentiments Yosuke was expressing, exactly – it wasn’t hard to guess that Yosuke liked to be needed and useful, and that being protected might fly in the face of that self-image, but he was honestly thrown off-guard by his implication that this was an ongoing problem. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you hadn’t killed that shadow…”

“No, before that. What did you mean, _same as usual_?”

“C’mon, dude, what do you think?” But when Souji continued to stare blankly at him, Yosuke sighed again and lowered his voice before continuing. “How many times have you had to save me from my Shadow by now? The liquor store; last year with that Apathy Syndrome thing; Iwatodai. I almost got killed trying to rescue Nanako-chan that time, too. I’m sick of feeling like this; I want to help someone _else_ for a change. I don’t want to be powerless anymore.”

Souji’s heart was pounding. That was probably the most honest admission about his Persona he’d ever gotten out of Yosuke, and – and something about it was _important_ , he knew. Maybe it was just fatigue stripping away his defenses, but... there was something about the way Yosuke had lowered his voice just now, like this was something shameful and private he didn’t want anyone else to know...

“Something’s coming,” Teddie warned them, and Souji lost his train of thought. “There’s a shadow in the hallway.”

“We shouldn’t linger,” said Naoto. “Souji-san?”

He nodded. His legs ached in protest as he stood, but the short rest had at least left him feeling renewed mentally, if not physically. When he went to Yosuke in the corner with the intent of helping him to his feet, he held out his hand but stopped short of taking him by the arm without permission – a physical transgression he wouldn’t have thought twice about before, when they’d still been together, but on which he certainly dwelled now. For the most part, Yosuke managed on his own; and for that split-second when he lost his balance as he stood, he was the one who took hold of Souji’s outstretched arm until he was stable again.

Little steps, Souji thought, like it had always been with them. Whether they were going to continue as friends, or something more, or drift apart forever, they’d do it by degrees in their own way. One more touch, one more step – one more floor, one more fight. If they kept moving, one foot in front of the other, surely they’d get to wherever they were going somehow.

 

***

Even if that destination was an early grave.

There was no question that Izanami was out of their league. Even before she showed them her true form, before the shining orb that Margaret had shown him in his dreams had appeared to tear away the veil that had concealed the horrifying truth, none of them clung too tightly to hope. Souji wasn’t even sure they would have fared any better if he’d had his Personas; this fight was simply beyond them.

But they did the thing they’d come to do, and fought as hard as they could.

What little confidence they’d managed to muster at the beginning of the battle was gone. Chie and Kanji and Naoto kept up their relentless assault, and Yukiko assisted them when she wasn’t sharing healing duties with Teddie, but as the battle dragged on, they began to lose steam. Even Yosuke did his part, and he and Souji would often rush forward together when Rise alerted them to the best time to sneak in an attack, but it simply wasn’t _enough_. It seemed that each time Izanami tore into them with monstrous, decaying hands, they could barely recover in time to defend against the next attack. Given a week to fight this battle, maybe they could have succeeded – but as it stood she was wearing them down and they couldn’t stay ahead of her.

Souji was beginning to despair. They’d known this would be dangerous, maybe even hopeless, but they’d trusted him. He’d thought his meeting with Margaret had been an indication that pursuing Izanami to the end was the right thing to do, but now…

He quickly surveyed the damage to their group. Rise was safely back near the room’s entrance, hurriedly informing Teddie and Yukiko of who needed healing first, but one look at them told him they didn’t have the energy to keep that up much longer. Kanji and Chie’s attacks took a lot more out of them than the others’; he was bloody and barely clinging to consciousness, leaning on his shield for support, and she had her hands braced on her knees, every limb visibly trembling as she panted for breath. Naoto’s left arm hung limply at her side, and she’d stopped being able to use Yamato Takeru’s hardest-hitting skills a while ago. Yosuke’s face was vacant, most likely the result of having been cut down twice and brought back to awareness by Amaterasu – the vivid red stains on the front of his jacket a disturbing testament to that trauma. Souji could do nothing but call on Izanagi to defend all of them and pray that it was enough, but even he was reaching the end of his limited capabilities.

He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. There was simply no way to know for sure. Maybe this was all for nothing – but maybe despair was clouding his judgement. Maybe doing the right thing didn’t always mean you got to live to see the results.

“Goodbye,” said Izanami, and her voice was so calm and soft when she said it that Souji could only assume she was going to slaughter them out of sheer pity. “Accept the reality of your death.”

He felt a tug on his feet, and looked down; the floor was blackening beneath him. Wiry black hands crawled up and out of the void and grabbed hold of him, and with a sickening lurch of his stomach he felt the ground give way under his feet—

Something slammed into him hard from both directions, and it took him a full second to realize it wasn’t an effect of Izanami’s attack; it was Teddie on one side, and the hard floor on the other. The sound of Rise’s scream rang out sharply in his mind, was echoed repeatedly by the others, and the cries urged him back to his feet – but to his horror, Teddie was already gone, the top of his costume just barely visible as the shadow hands dragged him down and the void closed over the space where he had just been standing.

Souji could only stare at that spot, aghast, as if it would bring him back.

Losing Teddie spurred the others into mounting one last furious, desperate assault while he struggled to think of a strategy. But there was no time for that, he soon discovered. He was distracted by a momentary glimpse of Yosuke getting knocked down in a shower of blood, and then the floor turned black underneath him once more, and—

It was Naoto who pushed him aside next, and though she tried to summon Yamato Takeru at the last second, she too was dragged under with a strangled cry. Souji had barely gotten back up when he saw Kanji barrelling toward him – he’d already been running before Naoto went down, he had to have been – and though he threw up his hands to protest, he was ignored and shoved away a third time, and didn’t even recover in time to see Kanji vanish into the blackness. He was simply gone.

Rise was lost to panic, begging for some response from their missing friends instead of monitoring the fight. Not that it would have done them any good – it wasn’t a fight anymore. It was a massacre, and it appeared that the only thing left to decide was who was going to take the next fatal hit.

The floor darkened again, and Souji tried his hardest to jump out of the way as soon as it happened, but even that proactive move didn’t work; he was rooted to the spot almost instantly. He looked to the others. With Izanami focused on him, Yukiko was using the distraction to heal Yosuke, and now Chie was headed his way, her face streaked with tears as she left two of her closest friends behind so she could rescue another.

“Don’t, please—“ Souji begged her – he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t watch them _all_ die for him, one after another – but like Kanji, she didn’t listen, and the anguished sob that Yukiko let out as Chie pushed him out of the way and was swallowed up into the floor drove a spike of pain into his heart.

In the space between that attack and the next, there was an eerie silence that was broken only by Rise sobbing, “Come back, p-please— come back…”, a prayer that Souji realized too late was directed at those of them who were still left, and not the ones who were gone. Yukiko was shaking, her face hidden in her palms, losing Chie the very last straw for her overtaxed reserves, and Yosuke…

Souji was ready when it was Yosuke’s turn.

Predictably, like the others, he charged across the battlefield toward Souji when the ground around him blackened and bubbled. But just before he would have crashed into him, he used Yosuke’s momentum against him, dropping his sword and twisting his body so he could grab Yosuke by his coat and throw him toward the ground. With a startled yelp, Yosuke fell hard and rolled safely out of reach of the black hands that began slithering up Souji’s legs.

“Souji!” Yosuke shouted as he recovered himself. “What are you—?!”

For the first time in his life, despite all the fighting they’d done and the stupid risks they’d taken, Souji experienced a clear, sharp awareness of his own mortality. The same churning stench emanating from the goddess above them rolled off the hands snaking their way up his body, leaving behind trails of stinging, searing pain where they touched and the smell of dead, rotting flesh -- of what he was about to become.

He had only seconds to spare, and they’d be his last words to Yosuke. He had to make them count.

“Go!” he shouted, in the commanding tone of voice he reserved for issuing orders. This was important; as long as Yukiko was alive to heal their wounds, there was a chance she and Yosuke and Rise could escape this place together. “Get Yukiko up and go!”

Yosuke ignored him. He scrambled to his feet and dashed toward him again, this time with his knives flashing, and instead of trying to knock him out of the way, he tried to cut off the arms that were dragging Souji down through the floor. And miraculously, it actually _worked_ at first – lacerated shadow limbs snapped and fell away and spasmed on the ground, no longer a threat, and Yosuke grabbed Souji by the arm and started to pull.

“Got you, Souji, I’ve got you—“

But more hands emerged from the blackness to replace the severed ones, and Yosuke was fighting for a lost cause, hacking and slicing so wildly that he accidentally cut Souji more than once. It was no good – at this rate, the hands would grab Yosuke, too, and then they’d both go under.

Souji gave up ordering in favour of begging. “Stop, please!” Something grabbed his elbow, and he risked a glance backward; he now had one arm in the grasp of the shadow hands, and the other in Yosuke’s, and he wasn’t sure which one was going to tear an arm from its socket first. “Please— It’s okay—“

“No, no, you can’t— !”

“Hurry!”

“Partner—!”

“ _Go!_ ”

Tears streamed down Yosuke’s horrified face as he struggled to pull Souji out of the void, his shoes squeaking and skidding on the floor as he lost more and more ground to the shadow arms with each passing second. Souji locked eyes with him, squeezed his arm with all of the strength in his hand and begged him without words to listen, to _understand_ –

Yosuke sobbed, and let go.

Souji fell backward, succumbing at last to the strong pull on his other arm, and an odd sort of relief came over him in addition to the fresh burst of agony. It was over. No one else would die for him, everything was over…

Izanami didn’t take Yosuke’s interference lightly. She lashed out at him, raking wildly at him with her rotting, skeletal hands. Rise screamed at him to move – but like earlier, when he’d jumped in front of Souji to take the Jotun’s attack, Yosuke stood with his hands at his sides and didn’t flinch. And the last thing Souji saw and heard before the pain and the darkness swallowed him completely was Yosuke awash in a brilliant flash of blue light, and the crash of shattering glass.


	13. Chapter 13

He felt lighter, somehow.

When Souji regained consciousness he found himself sprawled face down on the ground, hard and smooth and cool against his cheek and his hands, a pleasant contrast to the odd phantom burn he could still feel lingering on his arms and legs underneath his clothes. He felt the toxic touch lingering on his skin, sort of prickling, but it didn’t really hurt anymore. Nothing hurt anymore, not like it did when he was—

He felt light. Maybe it was just a matter of perception; the hands were no longer dragging him down, and he was no longer struggling against them, so of course he felt light. You always feel light when gravity stops doing its thing, like you could just close your eyes and float away and—

Or maybe he was already dead. That seemed likely, too.

There was no shame in that, he decided, turning his head into the crook of his arm – he was adrift in the sea of white fog, and the reflected brightness hurt his eyes and he wanted nothing more than to close them. They’d fought hard and come a long way. They’d done everything they could, everything in their power, and were they to blame if it wasn’t enough? Their opponent was ancient, and powerful; they struggled against her and against the wishes of humanity to shroud themselves in fog. Perhaps they’d exceeded their part, after all. Perhaps it wasn’t their place to…

“What are you doing?”

He opened his eyes and tilted his head just far enough to see Margaret standing over him, one hand clenched into a tight fist and the other holding the Compendium tucked against her side.

“Get up,” she commanded, her placid face and piercing yellow eyes unusually stern. It wasn’t hard to imagine that she was a Shadow when she wore that expression, poised to tell him everything he both needed and didn’t want to hear. “You are not someone allowed to fall here.”

Obviously, she was wrong – he’d fallen already, and her demeanour confirmed as much in his mind. It was too late for lectures. But that was okay. If he was dead, then that meant that the others – Rise, Yukiko, and Yosuke – hadn’t died in his place. Maybe they were dead now too, torn apart by the terrible goddess back where he’d left them, but at least they didn’t die for _him_. That Yosuke tried at all made him oddly happy, but he was happier that he hadn’t succeeded, and that thought gave him a little comfort, and he felt his eyes drooping closed again contentedly. It was done. They’d tried their hardest, and he could rest now. They’d done everything they could…

He’d done everything he…

“You must know already,” said Margaret , and he started awake again at the sound of her voice. “The true nature of bonds. What bonds give to you. Here, listen closely.”

From somewhere that sounded very close and then far off, like time and space was warping around his ears, Souji heard someone’s voice – many voices, in fact, all speaking together so that distinguishing one from the other was impossible. He tried to concentrate and listen hard, but he couldn’t pin them down – it was just static, nothing but shadows of whispers in the fog. He was alone. More alone than he’d felt in a long time, not since the first time his parents had allowed him to stay at home by himself for a couple of days while they’d been out of town at a conference. He’d spent his entire life running away from that kind of loneliness, filling the void with people and responsibilities, and now it was here, inescapable, _everywhere_. It was his reality now, the only thing he had left, and he—

“Remember what I told you?” Margaret asked, cutting into the panicking spiral of his thoughts. “These bonds are of your own making. They belong only to you, and to the people with whom you share them. She cannot erase them. She cannot take them away from you. Set aside your fear, and listen.”

She disappeared into the fog, and he felt the fear tighten its grip on him momentarily. Why was she leaving him? He didn’t know what to do, he _needed_ her. She and Igor both had always been there to guide him when he was most lost, when things seemed darkest, when he needed them to point out the way, and now she was going to abandon him at the end of everything?

 _No_ , said something inside him, some strong, sure voice he hadn’t thought he’d ever really hear again – it was precisely the opposite. She’d vanished because he _didn’t_ need her. She’d already given him what he needed: a focal point in the vast sea of fog, something to cling to so he wouldn’t lose himself amongst the echoes. And there were others, too. Souji stilled his mind and listened, and – there –

“Don’t leave me…”

A flickering image of Chie appeared where Margaret had been standing not a moment ago, looking frightened and unsure, an expression that had never fit her face in all the time he had known her. “I’m scared…” she whispered, and Souji’s initial happiness at having found someone familiar in the emptiness waned when the thought occurred to him that maybe they weren’t here to tell him everything was all right. Maybe they were just as lost as he was. Maybe they’d always been. “I’m such a stubborn, two-faced coward… but you understood me. That’s why I can become as strong as I need to be…”

He wanted to tell her no, she’d always been strong, she’d never really needed him in the first place – that pulling away from Yukiko and Yosuke and trying to rescue him had been the dumbest, strongest, bravest thing she’d ever done for him – but then she was gone. And in another moment, Yukiko appeared to take her place.

“Can you hear me?” she asked. “Don’t close your eyes yet… I’ll give you our strength. You’re our last hope… Please, get back up, just once more.”

 _For what?_ he wanted to ask her in return. _You all put your trust in me, and what did it get us? How can you think I deserve another chance?_

“How much longer are you just gonna lie there?” asked Kanji, when Yukiko had faded into the fog and he was standing there in her place. “You ain’t like that. You’re not the kinda guy who can let it drop like this. That ain’t the guy I look up to. Get back up, just one more time. Let me protect you.”

 _I can’t let you. I can’t watch you die again. I’d do it a hundred times over for any of you, but I can’t watch you—_

“Please stand up just one more time,” said Rise. “We’ll be your strength…”

 _You always have been. I’m nothing, alone, it was always you, I don’t want to be alone…_

“If you stay down,” said Naoto, “I won’t forgive you. You gave me a reason to stay as I am. For someone like you to leave me in the dark halfway like this… Please stand up, just once more…”

 _I can’t. I’m not as strong as you. If I were half as brave as you are, maybe I could, but I’m—_

“I’ll protect you, sensei,” said Teddie. “You gave me my life. You’re important to me. I’m not alone anymore… and neither are you, sensei.”

 _…Am I not?_

It didn’t seem that he was. There were others, some faces he still saw from time to time in town – Kou and Daisuke and Naoki – and some he hadn’t seen for a long, long time. _Have you really done everything you can for those precious to you?_ Hisano asked him, and when he thought that maybe he hadn’t, the fear fluttering in his stomach compacted into resolve. _Our bonds mean we never truly have to say farewell_ , said Yumi, and he wondered if that was true, but found it reassuring nevertheless. Souji laid there and listened to them, pulling together all his strength and concentration just to focus on their voices and their words, and with each new encouragement he felt stronger and steadier. He started to think that maybe they were right after all. They were here with him, lending him strength, and maybe it wasn’t really hopeless…

And then it was Nanako’s turn, and it took all of his effort to prevent that focus from completely flying apart.

“Hey… big bro…”

Nanako appeared crouching on the floor, a ghostly hand placed on his back in what would have been a comforting gesture if he could have felt it. The look of deep sadness on her face shook him; it had been so long since he’d seen her wear an expression like that, not since she’d been a child. Like it did back then, it made him ache inside, made him want to sit up and draw her close to his chest and shield her from everything that was causing her pain – except right now, the one causing her pain was him.

“Are you going to leave me behind?” Her voice trembled and her hand moved to clench his shoulder, though he still couldn’t feel its touch there. “Mom, Dad, and now you and Yosuke-nii both… Do you think I’d be okay with that?”

He tried to speak again, and this time managed an unsteady version of her name.

“You promised me you’d come back… you _promised_ … Big bro… Dad won’t ever forgive you if you give up now… So come back, okay?”

His heart twisted in terror at Nanako’s words. There was a void, somewhere inside him – there used to be Personas there that had reacted to her father, but he realized that he didn’t remember what they were anymore. Those ones hadn’t been spared by Izanami. They were lost, and the sadness this realization brought to him was profound, as if all the other selves that he still had left were grieving for them.

He didn’t get to promise her that he’d be back before she, too, was gone.

They were all gone. The whispers in the fog were silent after Nanako was no longer with him, and Margaret didn’t come back either. He waited for what felt like a long time, but no one else appeared to tell him to get up, to keep going, to be strong. He tried not to be disappointed. He’d been hoping he could have seen his uncle one last time, to tell him how proud he’d be of Nanako and maybe to hear some encouraging words in return.

And he’d been hoping he could have seen—

“Wow,” scoffed a wholly different and alarmingly familiar voice from very close by. “You’re not even really trying anymore, are you?”

He couldn’t get away fast enough; the kick came hard and swift to his abdomen, and though it didn’t hurt in this place, it stunned him for a moment and he curled up protectively on pure reflex. The same foot that had delivered the kick rolled him roughly over onto his back, and then stepped down on his chest, and Souji was face to face with his Shadow for the first time in years.

“Here’s all your friends and family pouring their hearts out to you…” It sneered at him and hefted its sword, tapping the flat of the blade against his cheek. “And all you can think about is _him_.”

Souji hardly dared to move with the cold press of metal threatening to slice through his skin. He opened his mouth to counter his Shadow’s accusation, but received another bruising kick that shut him up and probably unintentionally saved his life.

“Screw everyone else,” his Shadow growled. “I just want to see _him_. I want _him_ to tell me everything’ll be all right. If he doesn’t come I might as well just lay here and die. If he doesn’t come – doesn’t that mean he never cared at all?”

“He’s important to me,” said Souji, careful not to outright deny the charges. He had an awful feeling about what his Shadow’s appearance at this critical moment meant. There was no one here to save him. If he failed to bring it back under control and accept it now, there was no way he would ever see Nanako or Yosuke or any of his friends again. “Why wouldn’t I feel that way?”

The Shadow rolled its eyes. “That’s just sad. You don’t learn, do you? _He’s not coming_. He doesn’t want you anymore. And you know what? _Good_. Fuck him anyway. If he wanted to leave so bad, then I say good riddance.”

Souji flinched. The Shadow’s words invoked a sick, guilty sense of shame in him, at seeing such deeply repressed anger so openly on display. He hadn’t thought he was angry at Yosuke – hurt, and sad, and betrayed, certainly. But angry? How could he be, when he understood the reason for him leaving?

“Not like I can _tell_ him that, of course,” said the Shadow, tracing the point of its sword down Souji’s neck and along the contour of his shoulder. “Oh no. If I get angry, then he’ll never come back. He’ll hate me. It’ll just fuck things up like it always has. On the other hand, maybe if I act lonely and pathetic enough he’ll feel sorry for me. Maybe if I act like I’m perfectly okay with him getting on a train and fucking off back to the city, everyone will believe it. But that’s not how I really feel. I can’t ever be honest with him. I can’t ever tell him the _truth_.”

Souji looked away from the Shadow, to give himself space to think without those ghastly yellow eyes watching him for the barest hint of a reaction. His Shadow was unbalanced, with one foot planted on his chest to hold him down; it wouldn’t take much to roll out from under it. But its sword was currently placed against his left elbow, and he’d lose an arm if he wasn’t careful – but he shouldn’t even have been thinking about it, he wouldn’t be able to hide it from—

“Ah ah,” his Shadow warned, tapping him on the shoulder with the blade. “You’re not going anywhere until I’ve had my say.”

“Fine,” said Souji. “It’s true. I’m – I don’t want him to go. I’m not okay with it. It’s not _fair_. Are you happy?”

“No. Not particularly. That’s what this is all about, after all.”

Souji turned his head onto its other side, gazing off into the empty space where Nanako had been. He thought he’d heard something just now, another whisper of some kind, far off in the fog, but also somehow close by, as if…

“He’s not coming,” said the Shadow. “Why would he? You’re nothing to him anymore.”

“That’s not true. He tried to save me.”

“Hah! Sorry, I guess you’re right about that one. He _did_ try to save you – and how did you repay him? Oh that’s right: by losing your temper again. By trying to control him, by trying to do what’s ‘best’ for him. And you know what the best part is?” The Shadow leaned down over him, increasing the pressure on Souji’s chest as it did. “ _You liked it._ Fuck – forget about _Chie_ being a two-faced coward. First you get pissed off when he tries to save you, then you say it’s okay because it means he still _cares_? God. You really are the worst.”

Souji swallowed hard, trying to choke back what would have been unmistakable as a denial. And he knew that the reason he felt the need to object so strongly was that his Shadow was right. It hurt like hell to hear it, but it was right. He was glad Yosuke had cared enough to try and save him, just like he’d been glad Yosuke had looked after him after his run-in with Izanami at school. No wonder he felt like such a mess – he was hurt, and terrified, and so angry, and so desperate for Yosuke to change his mind, and he had no idea which of those things he was allowed to be because _wasn’t it his own fault?_

“Yes,” said his Shadow, knowing his thoughts as well as its own. “It is. Remember what Susano-O looked like when you saw him? Your bond with him is rotten. But why don’t you go ahead and try to pretend like it isn’t? Let me end everything for both of us…”

The blade of the sword came to rest against his throat, and Souji shut his eyes tight to steel himself against the incision that would kill him. Rotten. Diseased. Corrupted. Like Susano-O had been when they’d seen him in Iwatodai, fused grotesquely with his shadow aspects, and not at all like—

Souji’s eyes flew open again. No. He remembered – right before he’d fallen to Izanami’s curse, he’d _seen_ it—

“Don’t go, Souji…”

He stopped breathing, though he wasn’t sure if he ever was to begin with.

Yosuke appeared in the fog next to Souji and his Shadow. His semi-transparent image was pale, but _he_ wasn’t. He looked – different. Younger, happier, healthier, like he did before he’d lost his other self. Those weren’t the clothes he’d been wearing earlier today either, and it took Souji a moment to remember that they were the clothes he’d worn on the day they’d exchanged rings by the river – even though his hands were bare of any such adornments. Of course, Souji thought, somewhat wistfully. It wouldn’t be a true bond if it wasn’t built on compromise – what he wanted, and what Yosuke wanted, all rolled into the same image.

“Everything inside me changed when I met you. Even if things didn’t go like we planned, I’m… glad we met. I’m glad we had what we did. I wouldn’t have made it this far if I hadn’t done it alongside you… You can’t let it end this way, right?” Yosuke asked softly as his projection started to fade. “You can keep going… right, partner?”

The image didn’t get a chance to disappear peacefully like the others. In a startling blur of motion, the Shadow leapt away from Souji and slashed its sword through the air with an angry snarl and cut the projection clean through the middle, causing it to burst into a cloud of fog.

“Do you actually expect me to believe that bullshit?” spat the Shadow, although Yosuke’s image was already gone. “You _left_ me, you _son of a bitch_. Why should I do anything for _you_?!”

Souji could have moved; it would have taken a concentrated effort to do so, but the Shadow was no longer holding him down. He had no means of defending himself against its sword, however, and he had no doubts that any sort of resistance on his part would cause the Shadow to turn on him instantly. So he lay still and watched its outburst, finding a strange sort of _relief_ in its rage – an expression of emotion buried so deeply he couldn’t bring it to light under normal circumstances.

But as usual, a Shadow’s truth was a distorted truth; true at its core, but not the entire picture. That there was honest hurt and frustration underneath his Shadow’s blinding anger was proof that there was more at work than its simplistically furious façade.

“You were right,” said Souji, drawing his Shadow’s attention back to him. “I _was_ happy he tried to protect me. When the others did it, part of me was… really scared that he might not. That he would let me die when he’d always tried so hard to prevent that in the past. And yeah… I’m still really hurt and angry at him. And I’m being selfish by not wanting him to go. But it’s not over yet. As long as we both want our bond to continue, we have time. We’ll let him know. He deserves the truth – so let’s make sure we tell him.”

The Shadow regarded him coolly for a long moment, face fixed in a scowl, and looked back to the empty spot where Yosuke had been standing with an angry scoff.

“You’re a fool,” it growled.

Souji had to shield his eyes from the flash of light that dispersed the fog and nearly blinded him. When he risked peeking through his fingers at what was happening, he saw his Shadow had risen into the air and become a shining form. The light faded, and Souji blinked away the black spots clouding his vision until he could make out a white figure that was unmistakably Izanagi – but different. Stronger, he felt, and also braver and wiser. Souji looked on in awe and knew that, like Jiraiya had once become Susano-O, he was looking at a reflection of his true self.

 _Come_ , said Izanagi-no-Okami, and Souji found he had the strength to get to his feet.

 

***

Though Souji and Izanagi stood alone in the battle, Izanami fell easily under their attack, undone by the very truth she had declared him incapable of reaching.

He didn’t remember much, after it was over. He must have briefly lost consciousness, because when he awoke he found himself not in the cold, foggy corridors of Yomotsu Hirasaka, but laying on a bed of soft grass and bathed in warm sunlight. Free of Izanami's influence, Teddie’s world was more beautiful than any of them could have imagined. Spurred on by a giddy sense of joy and relief at their victory, and by the knowledge that they hadn’t made much time to celebrate with each other in their busy everyday lives as of late, they dawdled in the grass and by the lakeside, laughing and hugging and celebrating their hard-earned victory.

Souji wondered if any of them remembered the black hands and the impenetrable darkness, or if any of them had seen the world of silence and fog that lay beyond. Nobody was discussing it, however, and he couldn’t bring himself to ruin the mood by asking.

“Thank you for helping to save this world, sensei,” said Teddie. “I want to protect it from now on, to make sure nothing ever happens to it again.”

“Are you saying you want to stay here?”

“Yeah.” While Teddie’s human form had an incredibly animated face, effective communication when he was wearing his suit was limited to body language, and there was no mistaking the way he deflated in that instant, a pronounced sag of his entire body “Oh, but I still want to see Nana-chan sometimes too, so… maybe…”

Souji smiled, and patted him on the head. “There’s no reason you can’t do both, like you’ve always done. You’re welcome to stay with me anytime.”

It felt a little ridiculous, being hugged by Teddie when he was wearing his suit; but the sheer force of it, the tightness of plush arms around his waist and the quiet but sincere, “Thank you,” that followed was enough to make him soon forget any momentary awkwardness.

There was a wooden bench nearby overlooking the lake, and after a while Souji went to it and sat down, grateful for something on which to rest his weary body. The warm breeze, the stillness of the water, the ring of laughter on the air – it had been a long time since he’d felt so fully at peace.

Although that probably had more than a little to do with the peace _inside_ him as well. Those half-formed figures in his mind – the ones that would appear as nothing more than shadows in Margaret’s book – were quiet now, fused together under the guise of his newly-transfigured Persona. _Izanagi-no-Okami_ , he recalled, and as if responding to the mere thought of its name, his true Persona stirred inside him. Not restlessly, as Izanagi had often done before him, but comfortably, and confidently, a being utterly unshaken in his knowledge of who he was.

Souji closed his eyes and smiled, enjoying a moment of the unique kind of contentment that could only be inspired by inner calm, and by warm sunlight on his face.

“Hey,” said Yosuke, and Souji’s eyes opened again. “Mind if I join you?”

After a brief moment of not knowing what to do, he shook his head and indicated the empty end of the bench, and Yosuke flopped down next to him, slouching in his seat and stretching his long legs out into the grass. “I can hardly believe it. It seemed so hopeless, but somehow… We really did it, huh?”

Souji glanced him over, looking for signs of lasting damage or physical strain, some clue as to what had happened after he had succumbed to the curse. Apart from some bloodstains and ragged tears on his clothing, however, Yosuke appeared to be the picture of health. He looked better than he had for a long time, actually; there was new life in every part of him, from the easy way he reclined on the bench to the way his eyes crinkled at the corners behind his glasses when he grinned. It was such a stark contrast to his formerly gloomy, wasted appearance that Souji found it impossible not to take notice.

“Yeah,” agreed Souji. “We really did it. I’m so glad everyone’s okay…”

“Me, too.” There was a long pause before Yosuke looked at him and continued that thought. “When everyone went down – I wish I could say I was terrified I’d never see anyone again, but I was too scared to even think _that_ much. It was all adrenaline, I guess. And then I barely had any time before she got the rest of us, too…"

Unable to help his curiosity, Souji asked, “Do you remember what happened when you went under?”

Yosuke shrugged. “I think I was dreaming. There was fog – lots of fog. It was quiet. I saw my parents, and Chie and Ted and the gang, and Saki… And you.” He waited, presumably to let Souji react to that, but he let it pass, not wanting to interrupt Yosuke’s thoughts. “And that’s about it. I woke up with Ted sprawled on my back and wildflowers up my nose.”

Souji blamed his good mood for his inability to suppress a snort of laughter, while Yosuke grinned and rested his head comfortably on the back of the bench. “Been a while since we had something to laugh about, huh?” he chuckled.

“Yeah,” said Souji, when he had regained himself. “I feel like something’s changed.”

“It has. Susano-O came back.” There was no mistaking the intermingled and almost unfamiliar notes of joy and pride in Yosuke’s voice when he said this. “Right after you went under – right after I let go. That thing attacked us and all of a sudden I just… _knew_. He was just there.”

“I thought I saw something, before I.... Do you know why?”

“Yeah. I think so. That dream – if that’s what it was…” Yosuke’s brow furrowed in thought. “I think I figured a lot of things out then. And I guess I kind of think that… maybe you were right after all.”

“About what?”

“About what you said to me a while ago. That whatever I saw in you and didn’t like was probably what I hated most about myself.”

“I thought you already knew that,” said Souji. “You told me that in the hospital. You told me you hate the way I try to be everyone’s hero.”

Yosuke shook his head. “I was just being petty; just trying to hit you where it hurt. What I said was true, but I never carried it all the way through like you said. I never stopped to think that maybe the reason I could see it in you so clearly was that I was doing the same thing – and maybe it was killing me.”

“So you’re saying… it was actually you who wanted to be a hero?”

“Yeah. Sort of. Both of us, I guess. You know, it drives me crazy, the way you try to do everything and protect everyone, no matter who it is or whether they deserve it. Stuff like being willing to give Adachi another chance, and that thing with Namatame… Ugh, it just ate me up inside. I’d get so angry and start thinking things like, _’Why is he_ doing _this? What’s he trying to prove? That he’s better than the rest of us? That we can’t get along without him?’_ …But the truth is, that’s what I was doing, too. What I really hated most about losing Susano-O was not being able to fight – not being able to _protect_ you anymore. I saw you doing what I wanted to be doing, while all I could do was sit on the sidelines and watch , and it … I dunno. Got under my skin, I guess.”

“I’d… never really thought about it that way. You’re my family; I just wanted to help you.”

He was slightly ashamed of the way that sentiment had slipped out of him so easily in the present tense – _are_ instead of _were_ — but if Yosuke noticed it at all, he apparently decided to let it slide. “I know you meant well,” Yosuke assured him. “But honestly… I don’t think you ever really understood how awful I felt after I killed my Shadow and you had to rescue me. I felt so useless, like I was falling behind… Like we weren’t really equals anymore, y’know? And then when Susano-O disappeared, suddenly it was facing me head-on: I’d probably never be able to fight again. I felt so goddamn helpless, and I was desperate not to look that way. I could have gone to Amada for help forever ago, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to admit I needed the help to begin with.”

“I’m sorry… I should have known better than to treat you that way. I know you’re not fragile, Yosuke…”

“Yeah, well… I shouldn’t have been so stubborn, either. Seems a bit stupid of me to be mad at you for not giving me something I never gave you, either.”

Souji frowned. “What do you mean?”

“When we talked the other night outside the apartment – when you said you might not be able to protect me anymore – it really drove things home for me, y’know? I was happy that you seemed to finally trust me enough to let me take care of myself, but… now I get that I never gave you the same trust. I wanted to be the one protecting you. I wanted to prove to you that I still could.” Yosuke turned his head to look him in the eye. “You get it now? That’s why Susano-O wouldn’t come back; because the only reason I wanted him was to prove I was still worth something to you.”

“That’s not true. Your Shadow was killing you. You wanted to stop that, too.”

“Yeah. And… I’m not going to lie: staying away from you helped. With my Shadow so unbalanced I was – god, I was just so _angry_ at you, all the time, and…”

“I know… And I know I deserved it.”

“Sometimes, yeah. Sometimes, no. Anyway. Without you around for me to be angry at, my Shadow calmed down. But he wouldn’t turn back into Susano-O because leaving wasn’t what he _wanted_. He didn’t want me to run away, he wanted me to _face_ it – they always want you to face it. Without understanding _why_ I was so angry, leaving you was pointless. I had myself convinced I was angry at _you_ , and I was, but – I was really just ashamed that we weren’t equal anymore, and… terrified of being nothing special.”

He wasn’t sure if there was anything in particular that triggered the feeling of nostalgia that came over him. Maybe it was the pleasant scenery, or the warm breeze, or the word _special_ , or just being alone with him and coming to understand him a little bit more, or maybe it was all of it taken together. Whatever the reason, he suddenly felt like they were sixteen again, taking a brief reprieve with each other from being up to their necks in trouble, and Yosuke was confiding in him about how he’d always wanted to be special, how he’d always wondered if being special to someone would give his life meaning…

“Things never really change, huh? If I’d seen my Shadow today, would it have said the same things it did way back when we first came here? _Hey, maybe you could be a hero!_ ” Yosuke chuckled, a little bitterly. “Guess I haven’t really changed at all. Susano-O’s been trying to tell me to quit trying to be a hero ever since he was still Jiraiya – hell, ever since he was still my Shadow. Wonder why it took so long to get that?”

“Because that’s not like you. Good thing for me, I might add, or I would have been dead a long time ago.”

Yosuke smiled and rubbed his nose, and looked downward shyly. “Anyway, I’m not gonna say it didn’t make me feel good to try and help you when you needed me. Part of me’s always gonna feel that way. But I have to let you stand on your own, too; I have to accept that I can’t always protect you, and that sometimes you won’t want me to try. But even if you never need me like that again, you’re still important to me. And I guess I figured out that I don’t need my Persona to be important to you.”

Souji didn’t wait to second-guess what he was about to do; he allowed himself to be carried away by their peaceful surroundings and the good humour of their group and the thrill of being alive after having come so close to death, and reached over so he could close his hand over Yosuke’s. For his part, Yosuke didn’t pull away, or give much of a reaction at all, really. He stared down at their entwined fingers, and chewed his lower lip thoughtfully.

“Souji, I…” he began, and his strained tone told him everything he needed to know.

“…You’re still leaving.”

Yosuke nodded. Souji relinquished his hold on his hand, and instead rested it next to his own thigh.

“I think we both discovered some really ugly parts of ourselves this year,” said Yosuke. “Figuring this stuff out isn’t going to be easy. But this isn’t just about _us_ ; it’s about us as individuals, too. Until we get that part figured out, we’re just going to keep hurting each other when we’re together. We’re never going to be able to keep moving.”

Souji thought hard about how to respond to that. He didn’t want Yosuke to go; that Yosuke could still think of leaving him after everything that had happened today filled him with a hopeless, childish sort of hurt and fury. But that was something, he supposed. That was a start. That was better than pretending he didn’t feel that way at all. “I thought Susano-O wanted you to face these things, instead of running away?” he challenged him.

“He does. But tell me something, Souji: between staying here and pretending everything is sunshine and roses, and taking some time off from each other to get our heads on straight – which one sounds more like _running away_ to you?”

Souji didn’t answer, largely because he didn’t need to. As he sat contemplating the streaks of sunlight flaring across the lake, Yosuke stood from the bench, dusted off his pants, and turned to face him.

“When I first told you I was leaving,” he said, “I think you asked me if I… y’know. Still loved you.”

Souji locked eyes with him, suddenly overcome with dread. He didn’t want to hear this. It was one thing to know it in his heart, but he didn’t think he could stand to hear Yosuke actually speak the words. It would undo him in a way from which he couldn’t recover. “It was a dumb question,” he insisted, with a dismissive shake of his head. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“Maybe not, but I thought you might like to know that the answer is – well – yeah.” Yosuke blew out a soft breath. “I do. And I don’t think that’ll change any time soon. I just… don’t think this is something we can work out together. Not without hurting each other even worse than we already have.”

“Honestly… I think this is a mistake.”

“Thanks, but… as long as it’s my Persona and my Shadow being affected, I can’t leave it up to you.”

“I know,” Souji sighed, as he got to his feet. “That’s why I won’t ask you to stay.”

Yosuke stared at him with wide eyes, hardly seeming to believe what he’d heard at first – and that’s when Souji knew that this decision was for the best. That Yosuke was surprised that Souji would let Yosuke act for himself instead of trying to impose what he thought was best was a sickening reminder of how messed up things between them had become. Maybe they really did need the time apart, after all. Even if it wasn’t permanent – just some time to figure themselves out, to become better people, and maybe someday they could be better people _together_.

Then Yosuke smiled at him, and reached out and touched his hand, lightly intertwining their fingers, and although the guilt and self-loathing didn’t entirely abandon him, he found them measurably easier to carry.

“Thanks, partner,” Yosuke whispered, and Souji was relieved to hear the familiar nickname. It suited them well, he thought, as they headed back toward their friends, no longer hand-in-hand; they’d be saying their goodbyes to each other and this stage of their lives soon enough, but in a way, they’d never understood each other more, and had never been closer.


	14. Chapter 14

_April 29, 2022_

  
Nanako hugged them both when they sat her down to tell her, their last shared responsibility as her guardians and as partners.

She turned to Souji first of course, as she always had, and he whispered something comforting in her ear that Yosuke couldn’t quite make out, but she nodded and squeezed him tighter in response. Then she turned to Yosuke and before he could even think of anything reassuring or joking to say to her, her arms were around his neck so tightly he probably wouldn’t have been able to speak anyway.

He didn’t think he could classify it, in terms of difficulty. It was just one more painful, difficult thing in the long line of painful, difficult things that had been a part of ending his relationship with Souji. At the very least, Nanako didn’t cry; she was quieter while Yosuke stuck around afterward to say his goodbyes, and a little clingier than she tended to be under normal circumstances, but at least the news hadn’t been completely devastating. Yosuke was glad for that; he felt like shit for breaking apart what had essentially become one of her longer-running and more stable family units, but – well. Better that than what had happened to her parents. He and Souji were only splitting up, and not even on particularly bad terms; at least they were still _alive_ , and he suspected Nanako was grateful for that much.

On top of that, he supposed, it would be hard for her to be surprised by something she had long suspected was going to happen anyway.

“When does your train leave, Yosuke-nii?” she asked, as he finished packing up some important documents and a few extra things he had forgotten the last time he’d left.

“Tomorrow. Around noon. Mom’ll drop me off at the station.”

“Can we see you off?”

Yosuke paused, bag halfway to being slung over his shoulder and resting uncomfortably on his elbow.

“It’s not that he doesn’t want us to,” said Souji, after the pause drifted dangerously close to awkward. “But tomorrow’s going to be hard enough. We just think it’ll be easier on everyone if we say our goodbyes now.”

“Oh. Okay…”

She sat quietly at the kitchen table as Yosuke gathered his things and set them down by the door and put on his coat and shoes. When he was done he glanced around like he was making sure he wasn’t forgetting anything – but he was really using the opportunity to take one last, good look at the home he was leaving behind. Souji probably knew what he was doing, though; when he glanced at him, his eyes were lowered, as if giving him the privacy he needed to say goodbye to his home before he said goodbye to him.

“I’ll text you when I get there,” Yosuke promised him. “Let you know I arrived safely and all that.”

“Thanks. Good luck, okay?”

“Yeah. You too.”

There was only a second’s hesitation this time, just long enough for both of them to gauge what the other was going to do and how he would react to it. Souji didn’t move, for which Yosuke was grateful; it meant he was leaving the initiation of whatever was to follow up to him, giving Yosuke the space he needed and the time to decide what to do with it. Maybe he really did understand, after all; maybe there was hope for them yet.

Yosuke closed the gap between them and drew him into a tight hug, one arm looped around his neck and the other around his waist, and Souji instantly returned the gesture, squeezing hard. He closed his eyes and tried his hardest to commit everything about the moment to memory – his smell, his breath on his neck, the softness of his favourite shirt gripped in his fingers. It felt important, somehow. Even if – especially if – this turned out to be the last time they held each other like this, he wanted to remember it just the way it was.

He kissed Souji lightly on the cheek as he pulled away, a soft press of lips near the corner of his mouth, and Souji took that as permission to do the same. In total the exchange had lasted all of ten seconds, but the effect it’d had on Souji’s composed demeanour was profound. He looked visibly shaken now, tired like he hadn’t slept all night, and a sense of panic swelled up in Yosuke’s chest at the sight of him. If he didn’t go right now, his own composure was going to go ahead and leave without him.

“Bye, Nanako-chan,” he said. She stood from the table and was heading his way, which he took as an indication that she wanted in on all the last-minute hug action, but instead she stooped down by the door and pulled her shoes on alongside him. “Are… you going out?”

“I’ll walk you to the corner.”

“Oh? All right.”

She hefted one of his bags over her shoulder and slipped out the door, leaving it open behind her. Yosuke shrugged and picked up his other one.

“Guess that’s it, then.”

“Yeah,” said Souji, following him to the doorstep. “Take care, all right?”

“I will. You’d better, too. Seriously, I’ll tell Nanako-chan on you if you don’t.”

Souji chuckled. “Yeah, well, same for you. Don’t think she won’t get on that train from Iwatodai…”

“Oh god, she totally would, wouldn’t she?”

“Yes, I would,” said Nanako from just outside the door. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

He exchanged half-guilty, half-amused looks with Souji, and then followed Nanako outside. “I’ll be in touch,” he promised with a little wave behind him. “See you around, partner.”

“Yeah,” said Souji. “See you.”

He stood at the door and waved them off until they disappeared around a bend in the staircase. Yosuke didn’t look back up until they reached the bottom, and when he did, hand raised to his eyes to block out the bright midday sun, Souji was nowhere to be seen. It was a bit of a relief, really; he wasn’t sure he’d get very far if he had to keep stopping to check over his shoulder to see if Souji was still there, waiting for him to come back.

He had to learn how to trust that this was the right thing to do.

“This is probably really sad,” said Nanako, as they walked down the street through the shopping district together, “but you guys seem to be getting along better.”

“Yeah. That is kind of sad.”

“After what happened when we all went to Iwatodai I was worried things would be even worse when I got back.”

“You don’t think this is worse?”

Nanako shook her head. “For a while I was really scared that you might… actually hurt each other. I thought about it all the time when I was away. You used to fight so much, and I was never sure how long it would last or what either of you was going to do…”

Yosuke cringed, and remembered coming back to his senses after that first awful fight with Souji, broken glass at his feet and Souji’s shaking hands in his collar and Nanako watching them from the doorway, horrified. “I’m really sorry, Nanako-chan. We were so caught up in our own problems. I never wanted to scare you like that, and I know Souji didn’t, either…”

“I know,” she said. “But you did. So… no, I don’t think this is worse.”

“I’m sorry. And sorry for springing this on you on your first day back. We thought it’d be better to tell you in person.”

“I do wish you weren’t going,” she admitted quietly. “But… you look so much happier. I don’t know what to think.”

They walked in silence to the end of the street, to the corner where the bus stopped by the gas station and Yosuke had to turn to continue on toward his parents’ house. Nanako was still rather cleverly holding his other bag hostage, however; he wouldn’t be able to leave until she was ready to let him go, and until she’d said her piece.

“Let’s keep in touch, okay?” he suggested. “Iwatodai’s really not that far. I can probably come visit you more often than I could still living here, and you’ve always wanted to see the city, so… you can stay with me whenever you want, too.”

She clutched the shoulder strap of his bag a little tighter. “Do you mean that?”

“Do I – of course I mean it! Nanako-chan, this has always been between your brother and me. We’re still gonna be there for you, kiddo, no matter what happens to us. And I know it goes without saying with Souji, but that goes for me, too.”

She smiled, and brightened a little. “And me, too.”

“I know. That’s why I’m not worried about him. He’ll always have you.”

The look of pride on her face was unmistakable. He’d seen Souji wear it so often in their time together, and had caught hints of it in her father’s expression once or twice. Maybe Susano-O was wary of that look when he recognized it, but Yosuke fought down his initial jolt of fear and disapproval. He had a feeling that the thought of wanting to protect Souji would probably do that to him for a while, but that was his own issue he needed to work out. Wanting to protect someone wasn’t necessarily wrong; and if Souji needed protecting, there was no one else he would be happier to leave him to than their little sister.

“Thanks, Yosuke-nii,” she said, embracing him one last time. “I’ll see you again soon. Promise.”

“You don’t have to keep calling me that, you know. Especially not now. Just ‘Yosuke’ is fine.”

She pulled back, her brows knitted together in a deep frown, and let the bag’s strap slip from her shoulder and into her hand. He held out his own hand to take it back from her, and got whacked in the leg with it instead.

“Hey!“

“You’re still my big brother, stupid.”

His mock protest of pain died on his lips. It would turn out to be the thought that would hold him together when he most felt like falling apart – the knowledge that his decision hadn’t completely broken his family after all. But right at that moment it felt like it destroyed rather than saved him, moved him to silence and almost to tears as she stood on her toes, kissed him on the cheek, and then passed him the bag and waved goodbye.

He didn’t watch her go, so he wasn’t sure if she looked back or not. It was for the best that way. Like with Souji, and for the same reason he had asked that nobody see him off tomorrow, he didn’t think he could actually bear to leave if he caught someone looking back at him, waiting for him to do the same.

 

 _ **Hanamura_Yosuke  
14:12**  
Ow, btw, there were books in that bag. Bruise looks like ted’s bear suit._

 _  
 **Dojima_Nanako  
14:14**  
Good._

 _  
 **Dojima_Nanako  
14:18**  
<3_

 

 _***_

 _April 30, 2022_

  
Nanako tried to keep Souji busy the next morning, suggesting they make breakfast together, calling Kanji over for a chat, and talking about all the places and people in Inaba she wanted to visit before Golden Week was over and she had to go back to Iwatodai, but Souji’s attention was always half on her and half on his wristwatch.

Yosuke’s train left in an hour. In an hour, it wouldn’t matter anymore; he’d be gone from Inaba, and that was that. It would be a relief in a way, wouldn’t it? It would be out of his hands then, and they could both move on with their lives.

 _Move on… how?_ he wondered, only half paying attention as he put away dishes and Nanako chatted happily about her impressions of university. What happened now? Did they just go about their daily lives? See other people? Even though they planned on remaining friends, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to forget that Yosuke had ever been more to him, and he didn’t think Yosuke knew much about how to do that either. Were they just not supposed to talk about it? Never mention it again? Even if they didn’t, their friends were bound to bring it up eventually, weren’t they?

And what happened if Yosuke found someone else? What happened when he came back to Inaba with another guy, or a woman he wanted to marry and Souji still had no one (and she would know about them, of course, because Yosuke would have to tell her, and would she ever trust them to be alone together?) and—

“Big bro, are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, rubbing at the ache that had developed in his temple over the course of the morning. This was too much to be worried about all at once. In another hour, Yosuke would be gone, and there would be nothing he could do about it anyway. One more hour. “Just a headache. It’s fine.”

“Maybe you should take something for it.”

He went to the cupboard where the painkillers were kept and opened it. When he reached in for the bottle, however, something shoved off to one side caught his eye: a crumpled, torn-open envelope. His hand passed over the pill bottle and pulled the envelope out instead, and he held it in his palm, feeling the weight of the object tucked into its corner before emptying it into his other hand.

It hadn’t felt right, putting Yosuke’s ring away along with all the other mementos of bygone days he kept hidden away from the world; surely he’d change his mind and want it back someday, he’d thought, but he no longer harboured such delusions.

He took it to his bedroom, and opened the bottom drawer of his dresser. There was a small box in there tucked away beneath his clothes, and it was inside that box he placed Yosuke’s ring, the newest piece in a hodgepodge collection of necklaces and hairbands and colourful pins and construction paper jewellery. He was about to close the box again, and close this chapter of his life entirely, when he caught sight of something inside it that gave him pause.

One more hour…

A minute later, he was rushing out an apology to Nanako and flying out the door. At the bottom of the stairs he unlocked the old bike Yosuke had left behind and kicked off, and raced it across town to return the object in his pocket to its rightful owner.

 

***

Yosuke’s mother left him waiting alone on the platform at his request, where he sat on the bench with his bags and his guitar at his feet and his hands in his pockets, staring blankly at the spot in front of him where the train would soon pull up and take him away from this place. It was a not-so-secret dream of so many of the kids who had grown up in Inaba, to leave their little town behind for bigger and better things that could be found in any of the cities reachable by spending a few hours in a train. Yosuke himself had felt that urge to flee the moment he’d arrived there with his parents when he was a teenager, but that urge had lessened over time, to the point where when he’d finally left Inaba for school – and for Souji – it had never been with the idea in mind that he would never be coming back.

He looked at this departure in much the same way. He was fairly certain it would be temporary – but then again, that depended on what he found in the city. If it was something Inaba couldn’t offer, then that’s where he’d stay. If not – well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

He checked his watch. The train would be arriving any minute, and then departing soon after. He glanced around the platform at his few fellow passengers: a family of four, two younger women, an elderly man. There were always more people departing Inaba than arriving, but there were so few people left in town these days to _leave_. There wasn’t anything special about him, he supposed; just another poor sap who couldn’t survive in the country anymore, who thought that maybe any place that wasn’t here would give him what he was missing in his life.

It was when he was looking at the other people waiting on the platform that he saw Souji walking toward him, and his heart skipped a beat in terror. Dammit – he’d _told_ him not to come, he’d told _everybody_ not to come. He’d even lied about his departure time to everybody _except_ Souji and Nanako, just so they wouldn’t do what he knew they’d try to do and gather on the platform to see him off. He’d already said his goodbyes to all of them, and there was no way he could do it again, but Souji had ignored him…

 _Of course he ignored you_ , he thought darkly, as he rose to meet him. _Of course he hasn’t changed. Why did you expect anything else?_

“Yosuke…” Souji began, slightly short of breath, but Yosuke cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded sharply. He was angry, and getting angrier by the second. This was the last important thing he’d asked of Souji, just this one last thing, and he’d trusted him enough with it to tell him the truth when he’d asked when Yosuke was leaving. How could he have believed Souji would respect his wishes and just let him go? “I asked you not to come, Souji, you _promised_ me…”

“I know, I know,” said Souji in a rush, as he reached into his coat pocket. “I’m sorry, I’m not here to say goodbye or try to stop you or anything—“

“Then _what_?”

“You left something that belongs to you.”

Souji withdrew that something from his pocket and took Yosuke’s hand in his own, pressing the small object into his palm and closing his fingers around it.

“I want you to have it,” he said quietly.

Yosuke’s confusion sharpened to alarm when he felt the shape of the object in his hand, and he struggled to jerk free of Souji’s grasp, panicking. No, he couldn’t do this – Souji couldn’t possibly expect him to take that back. “Souji, I – I can’t –“

“It’s not what you think it is.”

He let go. Yosuke uncurled his fingers like the thing they were being forced to grasp was burning them, and looked at it. It was a ring, like he’d thought, but the design was all wrong. It was plain, for one. There was no subtle design on the inlay, nothing that marked it as having been the sort of fine craftsmanship that Daidara had always produced for them. The colour was off, too, this one a cheap, dull silver that was probably nickel all the way through, like everything at the strip-mall jewellery store where he’d bought it as a kid. It had absolutely no monetary value whatsoever, but…

“This is…” he whispered. “That’s my...”

“Yeah,” said Souji.

“You told me you sold it.”

“I lied.”

“You kept it? All this time?”

Souji nodded.

Yosuke ran the plain ring between his thumb and forefinger. It wasn’t even smooth anymore after all this time, turned rough and scratchy as the metal had started to degrade.

“I kept all of those things you guys gave me. I know I said we needed the money, and we did, but… you were my first real friends, and I knew I wasn’t staying in Inaba. I just wanted something to remember you by, when I was gone.” Souji made a face. “And anyway, Daidara only wanted to give me like, two hundred yen for it, so… screw that.”

Yosuke laughed, relieved at the way doing so broke up the tension in his chest. “Uh… Even that might have been a bit generous…”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Souji, smiling a little shyly. “Anyway, I… want you to have it back. And not because I don’t want it anymore, okay? I want you to have it back because… I want us to be the kind of friends we were back then. I want you to be someone who wants to give me that ring because he trusts that I’ll know what to do with it. And I want to be someone who deserves to have it.”

Yosuke swallowed hard. “Souji…”

“So keep it. Okay? Hang on to it while you’re gone. And…” Souji’s smile faltered just slightly. “Someday, if… if you think I…”

He didn’t get to finish. He couldn’t get the words out, and couldn’t say anything anyway because Yosuke had flung his arms around his neck and seized him into a crushing hug. He clenched his old ring so tightly in his hand that he could feel it making impressions on his skin, turned his face into Souji’s neck and screwed his eyes shut tight and prayed that the moment that was coming would slow its approach just enough to give him just one more minute…

“Your train…” Souji murmured, just as Yosuke’s ears picked up the sound of it coming toward them.

“Yeah. Just – hang on a sec, okay?” Yosuke broke away from him and shoved the ring into his pocket, and went to his backpack and started rummaging through it. He found what he was looking for as the train came to a stop in front of the platform, and hurriedly shoved it into Souji’s hands.

“Here,” said Yosuke, his voice so thick he almost couldn’t get the word out. “Then you hang onto this.”

Souji turned the envelope over in his hands, no doubt discovering that the letter inside couldn’t have been newly written. It was already torn open, and if it seemed at all familiar to him, it should have – the envelope had been constructed by him personally, and the handwriting on the front and on the letter inside was his own. Yosuke had agonized over whether to take it with him or to leave it behind in Souji’s care; it was his, Souji had given it to him years ago, but now he felt sick when he remembered the childish, naïve rush of emotion he’d felt reading it in his bedroom for the first time. Back then, the thought that those feelings could ever be questioned or broken down seemed impossible, and he’d never considered that Souji’s confession might someday be taken back. Now that he knew better, was the letter as worthless as his old ring? Or by giving it back to Souji, would it restore the power it had once held, and breathe new life into a dead promise?

Souji clutched the envelope to his chest and nodded. He helped Yosuke load his things into the train’s baggage compartment, and stepped back when Yosuke climbed aboard. There was nothing left to say. The door closed between them, and Yosuke raised his hand in a silent farewell that Souji mirrored stoically.

He found his seat and pressed himself against the window when he got there. Souji was sitting in the bench Yosuke had vacated, reading his own letter and not looking up, and when the train finally pulled away from the station, he didn’t follow it to the end of the platform. Yosuke watched as he grew smaller and smaller, until the train rounded a bend and he could no longer see him through the trees, and then looked through the window with his fingers pressed against the glass for a little longer afterward.

And then it hit him, the gravity of the situation and what he had done. Souji hadn’t chased after him; he’d let him go. And he and Inaba and everything and everyone in it were now behind him.

Yosuke reached into his pocket and then sank into his seat with his hand in his lap, his old, cheap, plain ring resting in his palm. Weird how such a tiny, worthless thing could at the same time be something valuable enough to be worth treasuring. Maybe someday – if some things changed, if other things stayed the same, if he was ever ready again…

He smiled, and the way it crinkled his eyes forced out the first thick, hot tears. He covered his mouth with his other hand and half-laughed, half-sobbed most of the way to the city, Souji’s parting gift clutched safely in his hand. __

_***_

 _May 16, 2022_

  
The weather couldn’t have been more different from the last time he’d been here, all sunshine and blue skies whereas before there had been cold and dreary rain and he’d had to huddle under his umbrella with Yosuke and Nanako. That was the other major difference between the visits, he supposed; Nanako was back in Iwatodai, and Yosuke was – well, gone (and he found thinking like that _helped_ in an odd sort of way – not away, not elsewhere, just _gone_ , and on days like today it was better to have that finality). He didn’t particularly enjoy visiting the graveyard on his own, but today was a special occasion, and he was glad to make the trip; today was his uncle’s birthday, and he didn’t plan on letting it pass unmarked.

Souji went to the graveyard carrying three small wreaths and a bottle concealed in his coat pocket. One of the wreaths was for Saki Konishi, whose grave Yosuke had tried and failed to visit the last time they’d been here. He left it without much fuss or fanfare; they’d only ever exchanged a few words personally, and it was more a gesture on Yosuke’s behalf than anything.

The second, he left at the grave of Hisano Kuroda, who he recently discovered had died a few years ago while he’d been living in the city. He set it down and stood back, eyes closed in silent reflection of a brilliant life of which he knew he had only been afforded the merest glimpse. They’d spent a long time apart, too, he recalled, Hisano and her husband. He wondered now, as he had a hundred times before, if things would have come to this if he’d never taken her words to heart, if he’d never risked everything to let Yosuke know how much he meant to him – but for the first time, standing at her grave and saying his goodbyes, he chastised himself for that. Did a sad and unfortunate ending to a relationship negate everything that had come before it? She’d have sharp words for him indeed if she could hear him thinking such thoughts.

He bowed, said quiet words of thanks, and moved on.

At last he carried the third wreath to the back of the graveyard where his uncle and aunt’s marker could be found. When he stepped onto the stone pathway between the rows of markers, he noticed a man in the distance, one he’d probably have to move past to reach his destination. He was a little unsettled to discover that he wasn’t alone, preferring to do these things in private and to give other people their own privacy in turn, but as he drew closer, his discomfort quickly turned to surprise. The man in the dull yellow overcoat wasn’t in his way at all; he was standing in front of the same marker he had come here to visit.

“Should have guessed I wouldn’t be the only one coming here today,” said the man, and the wreath fell out of Souji’s slackened fingers when he recognized his voice.

“Why are you…?” he breathed.

Adachi turned his head slightly to look at him. He looked a shadow of his former self, thin-faced and dull-eyed, flecks of prematurely grey hair resting comfortably at his temples. The overcoat was old and beaten, but didn’t really fit him like it seemed it might once have. He’d never had a particularly commanding or threatening presence, but as a teenager, Souji had at least acknowledged Adachi’s physical advantage as an adult; now that they were both adults, he had to wonder how he ever could have seen him that way. It was impossible to tell how much prison had eroded him, and how much had simply never been there to begin with.

Maybe it hadn’t been prison after all that had worn him down. Souji remembered that something of Adachi’s smug, sarcastic old self had still been there when he’d visited him in prison, and remembered just as strongly how that presentation had fallen away at the news of his old partner’s death.

“It’s been five years, hasn’t it?” Adachi asked, turning back to the marker. “Since he died. Since you told me he was dead, anyway.”

“…Yeah,” said Souji, still trying to process what was happening. Naoto _had_ said his sentence was up – December, didn’t she say? Why had he imagined he’d have to go _looking_ for him? “Five years in March, actually.”

Adachi didn’t say anything to that. He seemed to forget Souji was standing there at all, something Souji found completely unacceptable when he was unable to think of anything but this man and everything that had happened and everything he’d put them through.

“I hope you’re not planning on staying in Inaba,” Souji said, keeping his voice low and even to convey the seriousness of his statement. “Not after what you did.”

“That sure would stick a thorn in your eye, wouldn’t it, kid?” Adachi asked sarcastically. “But no. I’m not. I told you way back then, didn’t I? I said I’d play by the rules of this world, and I meant it. I’ll be happy to get out of your hair forever if you’d be so kind as to give me another minute, here.”

Souji desperately wanted to be angry. They were alone here, no one else watching, no cameras, no security guards, no handcuffs on Adachi’s wrists. He wanted to _hurt_ him, to make him suffer what his victims had suffered – but he _couldn’t_. Not here, not now. Not in front of Dojima.

“He used to visit me every year. Did he ever tell you that?” When Souji shook his head, Adachi shrugged in response and continued on. “Figures. He did, though. Every December. I hated it at first – god, that first year I just tore into him for doing it. Thought he was just being a condescending jackass, see? Rubbing it in my face that I’d gotten caught and trying to make himself feel better that he let himself be led around like that. I cursed him out so bad the guards had to take me back to my cell. I was sure he wouldn’t come back after that, but… he did. Every year.”

“Why?”

“Fuck if I know. I was thinking of asking him the next time he came to visit, but… then you showed up.” Adachi shook his head. “No. It didn’t seem right to ask him. He never asked me why I kept agreeing to let him come, so I never asked why he kept coming. Some answers are better left unknown, I figure.”

And yet here he was at his grave, undoubtedly seeking that answer, or at least another one that could stand in for it. Looking for his truth, in his own way. “Adachi-san,” Souji said slowly when the thought occurred to him, “do you still have Izanagi?”

Adachi turned to him again, his face momentarily troubled as he met Souji’s eyes and then looked away. “Right…” he mumbled. “That was his name, wasn’t it? I almost forgot it. Don’t even remember what he looked like anymore…”

Souji let out a small sigh of relief under his breath. He didn’t need to question him any further on the topic; he was fairly certain he could imagine what had happened. Another visitor from Inaba, or a new security guard at the prison, or the taxi driver who had picked him up when he’d gained his freedom in December – she could have been anyone, taken any form in order to get close enough to take back the gift she had once bestowed upon him. In all likelihood, he still had his version of Izanagi – it was his Persona, the part of him she could bring to life but not destroy – but it had probably gone into hiding upon contact with her, like the ones Souji had forgotten.

He really had nothing left, after all.

Souji tried to be satisfied with that thought, but it was hard to be when they were standing together in front of that marker. His uncle had visited him, every year, and told no one. What had he been hoping to see when he sat down with Adachi in those little windowless rooms? What _had_ he seen that had made him think going back every year was worth it?

He bent and retrieved the wreath he’d dropped, and placed it at the base of his aunt and uncle’s marker. When he stepped back onto the stone path again, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small bottle of alcohol he’d brought with him. He cracked it open with absolutely no concern that he was doing so in the middle of the day on public property, and took a swig before offering the bottle wordlessly to the other man.

“Dojima-san’s favourite,” Adachi noted passively as he took it and examined the label more closely. “Think I’d rather drink paint thinner.”

“Do it before I change my mind about not smashing your face in.”

“You used to be so nice, Souji-kun. Oh well. Down the hatch.”

He drank from the bottle, winced a little from the burn, and passed it back to Souji, who screwed the cap back on and set it down next to the wreath in front of the marker. The alcohol left an awful, bitter aftertaste on his tongue, but pooled pleasantly in his stomach and warmed him from the inside.

“Well – I’d better leave you to it, then,” said Adachi. “Train to Okina leaves pretty soon. Thanks for the drink.”

Even years later, Souji still didn’t know what exactly made him suggest it. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the unspoken truce they’d called while in the presence of someone important to both of them, or maybe it was just the need to talk to another human being who knew his uncle like he had – deeper than his job, and further past his rough exterior than most people had ever gotten. It was probably wrong, he knew, but Adachi never asked him why he’d done it – and Souji never asked him why he’d agreed.

“I only got to know him a little,” said Souji, as Adachi started to walk away. “You probably didn’t know him much better. But if you’re going to be in Okina for a while, maybe we can share what we knew sometime.”

Adachi stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around slowly, a wary, suspicious look on his face, as if trying to gauge Souji’s intentions – as if _Souji_ was the one whose trustworthiness was in question, here.

Souji shrugged at his unspoken question. “It’d be better than wondering, wouldn’t it?”

Adachi had no response for that except to ask for Souji’s cell phone, which he handed over. A minute later, he passed it back to him with his contact list one entry longer.

“I’m not so sure about that, kid,” he mumbled. “But who knows.”

As Souji pocketed his phone again and Adachi turned away with a careless wave of his hand, he felt something like a physical _jolt_ run straight up his spine. He thought for one terrified, irrational moment that Adachi had done something to him – before realizing that Adachi _had_ done something to him.

 _I am thou…_

No.

Souji gaped silently at Adachi’s retreating back as a sensation he hadn’t felt in years swept over him. He stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed as he felt some invisible, intangible, but very real connection form between them. No, that – it wasn’t possible. His bonds with everyone were finalized, as strong as they could become, and Izanagi’s transfiguration was proof of that. There was no _room_ left, simply no _space_ for a new one, it couldn’t be…

But one had always been missing. The marker he had come to visit stood next to him as a stark testament to that failure, and to that emptiness he had never overcome.

For good or ill, Margaret had said. Whether positive or negative, his bonds with others would lead to the end of his journey, and to acceptance of his true self.

Souji sat on the stone path in front of his family’s grave marker for a long time that afternoon, until the sunlight grew weaker and the air turned cool. And for the first time since his uncle’s death, he no longer felt that lingering undercurrent of guilt in his memories of him. Someone else had taken up the connection they’d once shared; and as long as it was alive, he had a chance at becoming whole. It meant he hadn’t _failed_. He could still set things right.

Though it and its inhabitants would always be a part of him, he dreamed of the Velvet Room for the last time that night.


	15. (...are the scars we really covet)

_August 26, 2024_

  
Another Saturday night, another hole-in-the-wall downtown club, another few thousand yen in his pocket. The crowd was all right – mostly university students cramming in their last weekend on the town before the fall term started, which also meant most of them were too drunk to do much beyond stumble back and forth between the bar and their seats. They certainly weren’t well enough mentally equipped to pay much attention to the band, and while Yosuke would normally find that infinitely annoying, he was fucking up so much tonight that he was kind of glad for it.

“Hey, are you drunk?” Sayu asked, covering her microphone with one hand between songs. It could have been a mean-spirited question, but in this case, Yosuke felt her concern was completely valid. His fingers felt numb and heavy, like he couldn’t move them between strings fast enough, and chord progressions beyond the ones completely drilled into his memory were simply not happening. He was pretty sure getting drunk could only help him at this point.

He shook his head and mouthed a silent apology as Kyohei counted in the next song and Ichirou’s opening bass line started up. He tried his hardest to pay attention this time, and his increased concentration paid off in a lack of errors, which pleased both him and Sayu, who flashed him a thumbs-up and a grin when the song was over.

 _See? Not that hard. Just pay attention to what you’re doing instead of anyone in the crowd, and…_

For a heart-stopping instant, he thought he spotted him; there, maybe, at a table in the corner. He’d always been easy to spot in a crowd, but a lot of the younger people populating the place tonight seemed to have bleached and dyed hair, making positive identification more difficult than usual. But maybe…

The stage lights flared in his eyes and stayed there for the remainder of the set, and when the stage went dark for their break, Yosuke didn’t see anyone sitting in the corner anymore. He was starting to think he could no longer tell the difference between relief and disappointment. _ ****_

 

 _ **Seta_Souji  
Aug 25 16:04**  
Hey. Still have this number?_

 _  
 **Hanamura_Yosuke  
Aug 25 17:25**  
hey man! yeah of course. what’s up?_

 _  
 **Seta_Souji  
Aug 25 17:31**  
Oh good. I’m actually in town this weekend. Passed by Sumaru earlier and saw your band on the marquee. Was wondering if I could come?_

 _  
 **Seta_Souji  
Aug 26 09:19**  
It’s okay, I understand. Hope you’re doing well._

 _  
 **Hanamura_Yosuke  
Aug 26 12:38**  
i’ll leave ur name @ the door. we go on @ 11_

 

 

Playing in medium-sized venues like this one was a blessing and a curse. Unlike in the smallest clubs, there was actually a room behind the stage where the band could drink and relax between sets, which was great about ninety-nine percent of the time. The other one percent of the time, times like right now when Yosuke wanted to avoid conversation at all costs, he would give anything to be able to claim an aversion to crowds and wander away to be by himself for the next forty minutes.

“You’re playing like my grandmother, Hana-chan,” Sayu complained. “She’s mostly deaf, by the way. Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he lied. “Everything’s fine.”

“No, I think something’s wrong,” Ichirou agreed. “You’re not usually that bad.”

“…Thanks?”

“Is it work?” Sayu asked. “Are you tired? Working too much? Not sleeping enough?”

“No? Yes? No fair asking more than one question…”

There was a knock at the door, and since Kyohei was sitting closest to it, he got up to answer. “It’s not like anyone’s listening anyway,” he said. “College kids are too busy getting wasted to pay much attention to you screwing up.”

“Yeah, thanks for that…”

“They’re just being jerks,” said Ichirou. “We all screw up. Remember when Sayu got so bombed she passed out in the back and we had to cover for her? I didn’t even know I could hit notes in that register.”

“You won’t be able to gloat about that forever…” she huffed, and Yosuke grinned smugly.

“Uh, Hanamura?” Kyohei called to him. “It’s for you?”

Yosuke’s stomach sank; somehow, he already knew who it was without having to look. He did look though, and so did everyone else in the room, and when he did he was staring at Souji for the first time since he’d left Inaba.

It seemed like nothing and everything had changed about him in two years. In some ways he was exactly the same as he had been when Yosuke had left him on the platform at Yasoinaba station; he looked basically the same, carried himself in the same way, had the same affinity for dress shirts even in the dead heat of summer. His hair was shorter though, and his chin and jawline were slightly unshaven – Yosuke’s first thought was of Dojima when he noticed. The family resemblance was definitely getting stronger as Souji got older.

His second thought, despite himself, was that Souji looked good. He was a bit ashamed of that reaction at first, but it wasn’t just that he still found Souji attractive; it was also that Souji simply looked _better_ than before. Happier and more comfortable in his own skin, no longer tortured by something Yosuke couldn’t see or didn’t understand.

That was – well, _good_. Wasn’t it? Souji was doing better without him. That was how things ought to be.

“Hey,” said Souji, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. He clearly didn’t know whether he was welcome or whether he should leave, and Yosuke was failing to pin down the words he needed to let him know one way or the other. “Um… sorry, should I not be back here?”

“No, it’s okay,” said Sayu, who elbowed Yosuke rather harshly in the side. “Who’s your friend, Hana-chan?”

“Seta,” Souji answered, when it appeared that Yosuke wasn’t going to. “Souji Seta. We went to school together.”

Sayu’s eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs. “ _Souji?_ ” she repeated, turning to Yosuke with a badly-disguised look of mixed amusement and approval. “Really?”

Her reaction had prompted dawning looks of realization in their bandmates, and Yosuke winced as all eyes in the room were suddenly on him. He leapt to his feet. Disaster recovery mode, phase one: get the fuck out of there before the situation got any worse. “Uh, Souji, hey! Good to see you, man. Want to grab a drink?”

Souji smiled, looking relieved to finally get a response out of him. “Sure. Sounds good.”

“Hey, hey, wait!” Sayu pouted as he fled the scene. “Yosuke, you’re not going to introduce us?”

“No!” he hissed bluntly, and he slammed the door shut behind them for good measure.

 

***

The pounding dance music piped in over the speakers while the band was on break made conversation next to impossible, which was about the only thing that made the ten minutes it took to get drinks bearable. Yosuke couldn’t think of a damned thing to say to him that didn’t run along the lines of, _Yeah, so, how’s life? Sorry I’ve been avoiding you. I didn’t want to hear whether you’ve found someone else, not that I care, because I totally don’t. You haven’t, though, right?_

In truth, he was dying to know. Not that Yosuke expected him to have remained celibate – two years was a long time, and it wasn’t like _he’d_ turned down sex the few times the opportunity had presented itself, and for fuck’s sake they’d _broken up_ so what business of it was his? But still… He’d spent two years avoiding things that had looked like potential relationships for reasons he tried to ignore, but knew deep down had everything to do with his residual feelings for Souji. Whether or not Souji had done the same would determine how things went from here, and now that it had come to it, Yosuke was terrified to know the answer.

But it’d be good to know, right? One way or the other, he could finally move on. Somewhere in a part of his mind that was quieter these days, Susano-O hummed in approval, and he remembered that it was better to face these things head-on than to dodge around them, and live without knowing.

Once they had their drinks, Yosuke motioned with a nod of his head toward the club’s back door, which led out onto a less noisy and less crowded balcony, and Souji followed him there. They had to trade loud music for a cloud of cigarette smoke, but at least it was possible to talk without screaming, and though the air outside was sticky and humid with rain that hadn’t started falling yet, it was still better than the cloying heat inside. They made small talk for a while – how was the trip, how’s life in the city, how’s life in Inaba. It was mostly a repetition of the little updates Nanako and Chie and Teddie had given him, and things they’d already said over text and e-mail, but Yosuke was okay with hearing all the same things directly from Souji in person.

“You guys are good,” said Souji as they leaned on the balcony railing together, his glass empty in his hand. “How long have you been together now?”

Yosuke was pleased by the compliment, as always, but didn’t take it seriously; Souji was a step away from tone-deaf and had very indiscriminate tastes in music. He’d always liked it when Yosuke played for him, but he liked it the way people liked magic; it was a neat trick he didn’t know how to duplicate. Impressing him with it was easy. He’d probably never even noticed all the mistakes Yosuke had been making, but Yosuke didn’t believe for a second that anyone else would judge him so kindly. “Thanks. It’s been about a year now, but we still don’t play very often. It’s hard – actual jobs keep us busy and stuff.”

“Still working that office job?”

“Yeah. Boring. But that’s where I met the guys, so it’s not all bad.”

“Your bandmates?”

“Mmm.”

“So… was I imagining all that back there with them, or was that really awkward?”

Yosuke cleared his throat. “Yeah, I uh… I may have mentioned you before,” he admitted, and then he finished off his glass in one long drink to bolster his failing nerves.

“You did?”

“Not a whole lot. Just that you were – y’know – pretty much my first everything.” He laughed weakly, but stopped when Souji didn’t do the same. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said anything. I mean, now they know that you’re…”

“It’s fine.”

“Sorry. They asked. I can’t think fast enough to lie when I drink.”

“I know.”

Yosuke glanced at him, but Souji didn’t look upset. He was sort of smiling, in that absent-minded way of his, and seeing him so relaxed calmed Yosuke down a bit. He’d been reluctant to meet up with him tonight; they’d been doing so well, staying away from each other but keeping in polite occasional contact, and he hadn’t wanted all that effort to go to waste. What if the casual texts and emails and messages passed through their respective visits with Nanako all fell apart when they came face to face with each other? But as usual, being around Souji was easy. Being _with_ him had been harder, with all their individual shortcomings and the pressure and frustration that came bundled with a role like that, but simply being in his quiet company had never been a difficult thing.

He’d missed it, actually. Probably missed it more than he’d ever admit to Souji, much less to himself.

“How about you?” Yosuke asked. “How was Yasogami last term?”

“I, ah…” Souji laughed, and rubbed his forehead. “I quit.”

Yosuke’s mouth fell open. “You _quit_? Why? You loved working there!”

“I did.”

“Nobody even – Nanako didn’t mention anything about—“

“I asked them not to tell you.”

Yosuke was flabbergasted. Souji didn’t seem to want to elaborate unless he dug for information, but he simply couldn’t figure out how to proceed from there; he’d already asked why, and Souji hadn’t answered. That meant he’d asked the wrong question. “So then… what are you doing in town?”

Souji’s easy smile faded a little, and he looked down over the balcony to the people on the sidewalk below. “It’s not important. I had some free time, so I thought I should look you up while I was here. Is that okay?”

“Well… yeah, but—“

“When’s your break over?”

Yosuke checked his watch. “Shit. Five minutes. We’ll have another one at one-thirty, if you’re hanging around…”

“I’ll be here.”

There was no time to push his questions about Yasogami towards anything meaningful. Souji’s smile was back in place, and while seeing it put him at ease on the surface of things, it also deepened his instinctive fear that he was being deflected. He didn’t really want to leave, preferring to get to the bottom of his discovery, but if the others thought he was blowing off work to flirt with his ex they’d give him hell for weeks.

“I’ll be back,” Yosuke promised. “Just don’t… go anywhere.”

Souji just shrugged and smiled, and Yosuke turned away, frustrated with himself for saying something so stupid. As if Souji was the one who’d left in the first place.

 

***

The second set went more smoothly, though not perfectly. He’d gotten over the fear of suddenly spotting Souji in the growing crowd, but was still blocked by the idea of him actually watching him perform. He wasn’t sure why. He liked the attention being on stage afforded him, and he’d played for Souji plenty of times before; but this was a little different, he supposed. He was a different person on stage, a total stranger to the crowd, but Souji could tell him apart from his public presentation. He always could. He knew the difference between the mask he wore on stage and the one he’d worn – and discarded – when they’d been alone, when playing for Souji had felt immensely private and personal and –

His hand skipped a fret, abruptly throwing the entire song out of tune, and he winced at the exasperated looks Sayu and Ichirou flashed him in unison. Even Kyohei’s drumming sounded harsh and accusing for a moment, though that had to have been his imagination. Surely. Yosuke closed his fist around his pick when the song was over, digging the hard plastic into his skin to jolt some sense back into himself. This was turning into the longest goddamn night ever.

He didn’t even give the others a chance to needle him after the set was over; he set his guitar down in its stand, hopped off the stage, and headed in a beeline for the back door. Perhaps not surprisingly, Souji was exactly where he’d left him.

“Dude, when I said ‘don’t go anywhere’, I didn’t mean you couldn’t move off that spot,” Yosuke chuckled.

Souji shrugged. “Didn’t want you to think I’d run off.” Yosuke hesitated, not sure whether to take that seriously or laugh it off, when Souji continued. “I cheated anyway. Got another drink, hung around inside for a bit, came back. Figured you wouldn’t notice. Was I right?”

Yosuke rolled his eyes. “Jerk. So are you going to tell me what you’re doing here or are you going to leave me hanging all night?”

“Sorry. I had myself all worked up to tell you and chickened out.”

“It’s okay, man. Is… everything all right?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. Nothing’s wrong – nothing with me, anyway. I just…” Souji licked his lips and leaned on the railing again, threading his fingers together pensively. “I’m actually just passing through to catch a flight tomorrow. I’m, um… going away for a while."

Yosuke tried hard to keep his face and voice still. He didn’t like the sound of that one bit. “Really? Where?”

“Kagoshima.”

“…Kagoshima,” Yosuke echoed, and this time he couldn’t keep his tone even. “Kyushu.”

“That’s the only one.”

“That’s… pretty far.”

“Yeah.”

“Why would you want to go to Kagoshima?”

“It’s not a question of wanting to,” said Souji quietly. “It’s my parents. Well, my father, really. They’ve been working there for a while, but there was that big train crash there a couple of weeks ago… Dad was hurt.”

“Oh my god. Is he okay?”

“He’s pulled through, but he’s still in a lot of pain. Seems like it’s a back injury. Mom’s picking up as much of the slack for him at work as she can, and she told me not to come, but… you know how moms are. She’ll run herself into the ground before she’ll admit she needs help.”

“…Does this have anything to do with why you quit working at Yasogami?” Yosuke asked. “I mean – you are coming _back_ , aren’t you?”But there had been no reason for him to ask that question; Souji’s reluctance to discuss the matter should have told him everything he both needed and didn’t want to know. “Why? Nanako-chan’s out on her own now. Kanji and Chie and Yukiko and Teddie are still around, but other than them, there’s not much tying me to Inaba anymore. Not to mention it’s hard to, y’know, meet someone in a town that small. I want to see Dad, and I want to help out Mom – they’re my family, and they need me, and I want to take care of them. So I started thinking: why not go? Why not stay there? Why not just make a new start of it?”

Yosuke could think of a few good reasons off the top of his head, but none he dared say aloud. Because Kagoshima was about three times as far away as Inaba, and Souji moving there would put a distance between them he wasn’t comfortable with – and not just a physical distance. Because even though he was the one who’d left, it still hurt to think about Souji _meeting_ and _making a new start of it_ with someone else, in a city he would probably never visit.

Because – because they’d been chasing after each other ever since they’d been kids, and he was tired of it. Between them and Nanako, they’d spent enough time on train platforms watching the people who mattered most being taken away and brought back and taken away again, and he was _tired of it_.

But instead of offering any of those reasons, what he said was, “Yeah… why not?”

“I’m sorry to spring this on you all of a sudden,” said Souji quietly. “I should have said something, but… well, I honestly didn’t know whether you’d care. And since I’m not sure when I’m coming back I wanted to try and see you before I left.”

“No – hey, man, I’m glad you did. I’m glad you told me in person. It’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah. You too...”

The conversation finally hit a rut and lapsed back into small talk while Yosuke tried ineffectually to process his thoughts about what was happening. Before very long, however, the skies finally opened up and they were forced back inside by heavy sheets of rain. The club was officially crowded now, the music even louder than before, and Yosuke, feeling sick and angry and more confused that he’d felt in a long time, took advantage of the opportunity to make an exit.

“Souji,” he said, though he had to yell it into his ear to make himself heard. “I’m sorry – I have to go.”

Souji’s face was blank for a second when he pulled back – _hurt, you moron, you hurt him again_ – but he nodded, and smiled politely. When he leaned in to reply, his hand came to rest on Yosuke’s hip. “Do you have a way home? My hotel’s not far from here…”

Yosuke froze with his hand against Souji’s chest. He’d placed it there to push him away and put some space between them (a lot harder than he’d thought it would be, given how many people were crushing around them and pressing them together) and he forgot to move it as he wondered whether he’d misheard Souji’s suggestion. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry, tried to _think_ but couldn’t with the music so loud and Souji so close. He smelled nice, this close. He’d never really noticed it when they’d been together and he’d been immersed in it all the time, but something – his clothes or his hair or just _him_ – smelled like their old apartment, and it triggered strong, conflicting memories of that place. The awful ones near the end, but the good ones, too, the ones when they’d stood close, just like this, and… Oh, for fuck’s sake, Yosuke, _focus_. “U-uh—“ he stammered out. “Are you sure that’s…?”

The embarrassed look on Souji’s face told him he finally realized what he’d said, and he yanked his hand away from Yosuke’s hip in the same instant. “Oh – no, I meant – since it’s raining I can call you a taxi from there and—“

This was stupid. This was no place to talk, and Yosuke suddenly found himself fed up with missing half of Souji’s broken sentences and having to scream responses in his ear. If this was the last night he got to see Souji, he didn’t want it to be like this. “It’s fine, dude,” he agreed, nodding for emphasis. “After we’re done. I’ll go.”

Souji smiled, and nodded his understanding of their agreement, and Yosuke found a break in the crowd and slipped away while he could. But he couldn’t go back to the break room with the others poised to tease and interrogate him, so he went to the washroom instead, splashed his face with cold water over and over, and pretended that he wasn’t hiding from anybody.

 

***

Souji hung around after closing, but no one had any problems with that; he helped them tear down and load their equipment into the back of Ichirou’s van, which pretty much cemented him as okay in the books of everyone who had been at their other, more respectable jobs since early that morning and just wanted to go home. When Ichirou offered them a lift, Yosuke declined (“Don’t even start,” he warned Sayu, who closed her mouth and settled for giving him a very knowing look), and promised to meet them at practice the next day.

There was no point in running to the hotel. It really was close, just a couple of blocks down the street and around the corner, and they were already soaked from loading the van. Running wasn’t going to make them any drier. And anyway, Souji seemed oddly happy about walking in the rain a scant few hours before sunrise, that placid smile fixed on his face and his hands tucked into his pockets, while Yosuke struggled with his shirt collar in a vain attempt to stop the water from rolling down his back.

“Ugh, dammit…” he complained when they ducked into the lobby. “This sucks. Rain sucks. Can’t wait to dry off and just sleep forever.”

“Did you want to?” Souji asked, wiping his wet shoes on the rug by the doorway. “Dry off, I mean. Getting a taxi could take a while this time of night, and I have some towels and dry clothes upstairs...”

Now that they’d made it as far as the hotel, it was hard to make an invitation up to Souji’s room sound like anything other than what it would probably turn into, and Yosuke hesitated a long time before answering. It’d be okay, he figured. Souji was leaving, after all, and though that thought still upset him, it didn’t hurt as much as it had a few hours ago. Besides, if this was their last chance to talk for a while, wouldn’t it be better to make the most of it?

And if talking turned to silence, and silence turned to something else… well, what did it matter? They were consenting adults, and sober enough to make that decision. They’d broken up, but they’d been lovers for so long; there was no rule that they couldn’t find some comfort with someone familiar, right?

Besides— Souji would be gone soon enough, and things would go on like it had never happened. And if that thought made him feel more sick than relieved, well… he’d think about that later.

“Sure,” he said with a small shrug and a smile to mask his sudden nervousness. “All right. Lead the way.”

Souji nodded toward the elevator and let Yosuke go in ahead of him. There was a mirror mounted on the elevator’s back wall, and while Souji pressed the button for his floor, Yosuke frowned at his drowned-rat reflection, self-consciously raking a hand through his unpleasantly soaked hair. Not that there was any reason he should be concerned about his appearance, he reminded himself, as he tried unsuccessfully to wipe water off his glasses with the driest part of his wet shirt he could locate. Going to Souji’s room was supposed to be totally innocent.

They made a quick exit when they arrived at the tenth floor, and Souji beckoned him to follow down the hall. Yosuke stood behind him and waited for him to fish his room key out of his pocket, staring at the back of his neck, heart pounding, torn between feeling ridiculous and nervous. He was probably getting worked up for no reason; people wandered into town and showed up in clubs and invited their ex-boyfriends back to their hotel rooms on flimsy pretenses all the time, right? Except he couldn't even reason this out because this was Souji he was dealing with, and Souji made doing things that would raise anyone else’s eyebrows an innocuous routine, so maybe he _was_ being ridiculous about the whole thing…

When they entered the room, Yosuke sort of shuffled off to one side and stood with his arms folded awkwardly across his chest, and looked around while Souji went to the bathroom to search for towels. The room wasn’t anything special. A narrow double bed, a sturdy-looking desk and chair, an older television stacked on top of a dresser against the wall. He went to the window and peeked out through the curtains, and found a view of the back alley instead of the busy street they’d walked in from. Well, it wasn’t luxurious, but it would suit Souji’s needs. Money was probably a bit tight if he’d just quit his job to move all the way to the other side of Japan, after all.

 _You’re not okay with that_ , he was reminded by that other part of him. _Stop lying. Stop pretending you don’t care if he leaves, or he might—_

“Here you go,” said Souji, and Yosuke turned in time to catch the towel tossed his way.

“Thanks, man,” he said, eagerly scrubbing the towel through his hair, while Souji did the same and then started rummaging through his suitcase for spare clothes. “Don’t you need those, though? If you’re going away…”

“I can spare a shirt.” Souji picked one out and held it up to examine it. “Actually, this one is yours anyway.”

“Hey! I was looking for that!”

Souji tossed that to him, too, and he caught it out of the air with one hand, setting the towel down on the back of the chair. “Well, it’s yours again.”

“Thanks.” Yosuke turned the t-shirt over in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the well-worn fabric. He remembered it being softer than it was now – like it had been washed a hundred times since he’d last touched it. His throat constricted a little, and he swallowed hard. “…Actually, you know what, you can keep it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Souji, pulling out a shirt for himself. “You’ll catch a cold if you don’t change.”

“Then trade me. I want that one.” He didn’t give Souji an option, throwing his old shirt back to him and holding out his hand for the one Souji was holding instead. Souji shrugged and complied. The one Yosuke now had in his possession was another of Souji’s dress shirts, not his style at all – but he couldn’t bring himself to take away something of his that Souji apparently treasured enough to wear regularly and take with him on his trip.

 _You’re not okay with it. Stop pretending._

He turned his back and faced the curtain-covered window, screwing his eyes shut against the ache in his chest. He stripped off his wet shirt and tossed it on the floor, and dried off his torso with the towel he’d left on the chair. What was he doing? What was the point in torturing himself? Stupid – he needed to leave. All he had to do was dry off and change and say goodnight and get the hell out before he got his hopes up, before—

He heard the rustle of Souji shuffling across the carpet; given that warning and their current circumstances, he wasn’t at all surprised in another moment to feel him standing at his back, or his arms winding around his middle, or his breath next to his ear. The hair on Yosuke’s arms and the back of his neck stood on end as Souji sighed softly against his skin, and he clutched the shirt in his hands tighter for lack of knowing what to do with them.

“If you want to go, it’s okay,” Souji whispered. “I just wanted to see you.”

“No, I’m…” Yosuke licked his lips, suddenly as dry as his throat. “I figured this is why you…”

“No, no – I didn’t come find you for… _this_.”

“Oh.” Yosuke chuckled. “Uh, ‘cause – usually, when you invite a guy back to your room and come up with a reason for him to take his shirt off…”

“All right, maybe that was a tiny part of it.” Souji smiled, briefly; Yosuke could feel it against his skin, when Souji pressed his face down against the side of his neck, but it faded again just as quickly. “Yosuke… I’m tired of not having anywhere to go home to. Inaba was home for a while, but after you left…”

“Souji…”

In the silence that followed, Souji moved his head, touching his lips in the lightest of kisses on Yosuke’s bare shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine and straight back up again. Another followed that one, closer to his neck, and then a third even closer, and the warmth and lightness of his breath and lips and tongue made Yosuke’s eyes roll back as he closed them and made a faint noise.

Oh, fuck – this was going to happen, and he was as nervous now as he had been before their first time. This was such a mistake. They’d worked so hard to let each other go, and now they were going to let months, _years_ of that work go to waste just because Souji was in town for one night and then he was leaving and he didn’t _want_ him to leave because he was still…

Oh god, he was still…

“I came looking for you because I was wondering if… after I go…” Souji hugged him tighter and rested his forehead against the back of Yosuke’s head. “Maybe you could be a reason to come back.”

Yosuke couldn’t find the words to respond. He rolled his shoulders, breaking Souji’s hold on him in one smooth motion.

“Yosuke…?” Souji asked. But before he could ask what was wrong or be hurt by the apparent rejection, Yosuke turned around and seized him, palms cupping the sides of his face and fingers grasping at fine strands of short hair, and crushed their mouths together in a deep, needy kiss.

“I’m not sure if I can be,” Yosuke breathed against his mouth when they broke apart, “but fuck, I want to try.”

There was no turning back from there. Souji’s arms went around his waist again, warm hands touching every inch of exposed skin along his back, his sides, his shoulders, up to stroke through his hair and then back down again, palms sliding, fingers digging, nails scratching. Yosuke’s breath came in shudders and gasps through his open mouth in the briefest moments between kisses, and his own hands started wandering down into the gap between Souji’s neck and his collar before he remembered that he was still wearing his wet shirt. With fingers fumbling from a mixture of nervousness and excitement and the concentration required to suck on Souji’s tongue, he rushed to undo the buttons on his shirt, popping the last one when it wouldn’t come undone, and hastily peeled it back off his shoulders. With nothing between them any longer, Souji pulled him flush against his body and held him tight as they continued their pent-up, eager kissing.

“Fuck… Souji…” Yosuke whispered, moving his lips from Souji’s mouth to his cheek and then down to his neck, kissing and sucking and biting until Souji was making needy little noises of his own. With their chests pressed together he could feel Souji’s heart pounding in tandem with his own, could feel the heat rising in their skin, and – god, how long had he wanted this and told himself _no_? How many times had he wondered if this would ever happen again, if they would ever _speak_ to each other again, much less touch or kiss or fuck or make love or wake up together? He’d been so terrified to see him, but now – now with Souji at the focus of every one of his senses, there was no room anywhere in his entire body for fear.

He’d had other lovers by now, a few women and one man, but being with Souji wasn’t anything like being with them. That had been sex, pure and uncomplicated; but this was just the opposite, complication in its purest form, something that spun him around and burned him up from the inside, and while he hadn’t given it any thought while he’d been with the others, he had no idea how he could have ever forgotten that being with Souji made him feel this way.

Souji’s hands started tugging at the waistband of his pants, and Yosuke moaned into the crook of his neck. “Partner…”

“Yosuke…”

“ _Please…_ ”

“Shh…”

He didn’t have a choice but to stop talking when Souji’s mouth was on his again. He took a step back toward the bed and they fell onto it together, touching and kissing and groaning, one pushing the other down and climbing on top only to be toppled over and pinned a minute later. It was almost surreal – nowhere near as slow as their first time had been, but just as fumbling for how often it had been practiced since. Nerves, on both their parts, and the rush of knowing they probably shouldn’t be doing this – but it was a rush of emotion, too, that made their movements as clumsy as a couple of teenagers’.

Yosuke didn’t think he’d ever want it any other way again.

 

***

“Oh, god, we… _really_ shouldn’t have…”

“No,” agreed Souji. “Definitely… definitely shouldn’t have…”

They lay together in Souji’s hotel room as the sun rose, practically sticking to each other from the combination of their exertions and the summer heat. Despite their completely mature and logical responses to this development, however, neither of them seemed to be in much of a hurry to move.

“Y’know…” Yosuke mumbled, his head pillowed on Souji’s chest. “If you were to tell me this whole thing with you going away was a huge lie to get me into bed, I’d possibly consider forgiving you. Just this once. After I was finished chewing you out for being a lying bastard.”

Souji squeezed his shoulder. “Sorry. I kind of wish I could.”

“Do we have to… I mean… Argh, I don’t know what I mean…”

“We don’t have to do anything. If this is all you want, then that’s okay. I can live with just the closure. But… this really will have to be the end. I meant it when I said I wanted a new start.”

Yosuke propped himself up on his elbow so they could look at each other. “And what if I said I really missed you…?”

“Well… that can be a new start, too.”

“I really missed you…”

Souji smiled the sleepiest, happiest smile Yosuke had seen on his face in a long, long time. He pulled him down until their foreheads were touching and murmured, “Me, too…”

Yosuke got all manner of hell for missing band practice that afternoon, but he didn’t regret what he did instead: took Souji to the airport; kissed him goodbye at the security doors and didn’t give a fuck who saw him do it; pulled his old, cheap, plain ring off his finger and placed it in Souji’s hand; smiled at the promise Souji whispered in his ear; and went back home to his apartment, alone, but not for too long.

Souji had promised to come back, after all, and whatever else they still had to work out between them, they made good on their promises.


End file.
